The Haunting of Keith Kogane
by Virdis Drachen
Summary: As both a writer and a psychic, Takashi Shirogane has seen and experienced many things. He is the face of the future for psychics, pioneering a role for their acceptance/place in the modern day. He's helped many understand their abilities, and he's given a voice to those who don't have one. But Keith Kogane is different. (Cover art by: thequalityrunaway)
1. A Call For Help

**Chapter 1: A Call For Help**

There are somethings that people can not understand. Things that, some say, are perhaps unexplainable; Regardless of how many diplomas and recognitions hung on the walls.

A plaque laid in the middle of the desk with the title 'Dr. Samuel Holt' carved into gold, which many would see as a symbol of pride.

But, the man sitting behind said desk, Samuel, for all his qualifications and degrees, found himself literally scratching his head. Light brown eyes looked over the glasses on his face at the opened file of his latest patient.

Keith Kogane. Age, twenty one. Records of conditions he has allegedly been diagnosed with. Prescriptions of countless medications with effects that Samuel would rather not have his patients, or anyone, for that matter, go through.

Samuel flipped the page.

"Insomnia. Hallucinations. Alcohol reliance. Aggressive behavior. Anxiety attacks. Sleep Paralysis. Patient has been diagnosed with paranoia and dissociation. After several weeks on Benzodiazepine (20mg Tabs, 3 Times Daily), patient has noted the following: Dizziness, Confusion, Drowsiness, Blurred Vision, Weakness, Slurred speech (observed), Lack of Coordination (observed) Anxiety, Headaches, Nausea. Patient has shown no improvement." Softly, Sam recited the notes written by his own hand with just skim of the page, things he has long since memorized. But no matter how many times he would look at those reminders, the last note in particular did not sit well with him.

 _There is something more._ A restless itch prompted by what he considered was his intuition, unsatisfied with the conclusions the experience of his career would dictate.

Samuel sighed rubbing his temple then sat straight on his chair. To his right was his desktop displaying the images of old tabloids. The headlines in bold letters over images that covered most of the front page.

 **MURDER AND SUICIDE IN FAMILY HOUSEHOLD!**

 **CHILD ABUSED BY MENTALLY ILL PARENTS!**

 **'GHOSTS DID IT' CLAIMS CHILD**

The picture that always got to Samuel the most was that of a child with dark hair being shielded by authorities, the image captured midwalk. Fear lurking silently from what little could be seen of the small boy's bruised face.

It was heartbreaking to see and much more so when Sam was seeing the consequences first hand. That poor boy had grown into a young man with too many walls because no one has had the capacity to understand. He couldn't blame them though, Sam himself wasn't sure what to make out of this peculiar patient, but he was unwilling to just give up.

But it did not mean that it was any less frustrating. Some may call it instinct or a 'gut feeling' but Samuel was convinced that he alone could not help the young Keith Kogane. Which was why he was still in the office late in the afternoon, sitting behind his large desk eagerly anticipating an important call.

Sam's eyes darted down to his mobile phone, fingers twitching to reach out those few inches to grab it. Sam decided to give it a little while more.

 _It will ring_. The little voice inside his head told him, _He must be busy but he'll call back_. It didn't hurt to double check that there is any missed calls because the phone was set on vibrate.

A knock on the door startled him out of his deep thoughts. Sam blinked a few times to focus back on reality just in time to see his wife coming in.

"Am I interrupting dear?" She asked as she peeked through the door, most surely noting the slightly startled look on his face.

"Ah, Colleen. No, no it's fine I was just-you scared me a little. 'Was a little deep in thoughts, you know." Samuel offered her a jovial smile throughout his sentence in hopes to dispel the worried look that was wrinkling her face. Samuel didn't miss it when Colleen's brown eyes took a quick glance at the computer screen.

She hummed softly whilst entering the room and walking towards Samuel. He followed her with his gaze as she stood by him and put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with her thumb.

"I'm sorry dear, just came here to tell you that dinner's ready. But you're still working on Keith's case I see."

Samuel looked her in the eye for a few seconds, then closed the confidential file and tapped the butt of his pen against his notepad whilst nodding. "I'm reviewing notes for tomorrow's session."

Colleen looked like if she was waiting to see if her husband would add something else as her next question came a long moment after, "Have you heard from Shiro yet?"

Samuel answered through a sigh, "No. Not yet. I've tried a few times but, the boy must be busy. You know how he is."

"Oh, don't I," Colleen smiled fondly at that, returning the gesture as she rubbed Samuel's shoulder. "I'm sure he'll get back to you as soon as he sees your calls." Sam was idly nodding along her words, Colleen raised an eyebrow at him and added, "But in the meantime, I think you should take a small break. It'll be no good, and you might say ironic, for a Doctor to become ill from overwork."

"I know, I know. It's just that, well, you know." Samuel put his hand over hers, his eyes looking up over his glasses.

"Of course. I understand," She leaned down to kiss his forehead, "I'll wait for you on the table."

"Alright. I'll be there in few, okay?"

She nodded and then left.

Samuel stared at the door for some time after Colleen closed it behind her. He wasn't going to make her wait long, but he really wanted to allow a little more time to receive the call he was waiting for. He checked his phone again, and there was still nothing.

"Perhaps I should keep reviewing to kill a little time." Samuel muttered to himself as he flipped through Keith's record again.

Once again, rather than absorbing his observations, thoughts drifted off to concerns regarding Keith.

 _I wonder if that boy taken his medicine tonight? Should I call to check in on him? I don't want to seem like I'm nagging the boy, for all his troubles he has a clear independent streak ... Perhaps I should text Katie, hopefully she wouldn't mind checking for me …_

Catching himself distracted again, Samuel cupped his own chin and caressed his beard as he looked at his phone. Supposing that it wouldn't hurt to make the call he reached out for his device.

And it rang when his hand was hovering mere inches above it. Samuel leaned forward to make sure that he was reading the name displayed on the screen right. Then answered without a second thought once he was sure of who was calling.

"Shiro! How are you my boy? I was hoping you'd call soon!" Samuel responded with enthusiasm, leaning back on his chair and turning towards the glass window.

 _"_ _Hey Uncle Sam! Sorry I didn't answer before, I was working on a case. Didn't mean to keep you waiting."_

Samuel chuckled to himself at the humbly apologetic tone from the young man on the other end. "Ah, don't worry about it. I figured you were busy. It's another case in the bag, I hope?"

A sheepish chuckle preceded the response, _"You could say that. It was a pretty … difficult case. Emphasis on the_ ** _difficult_** _part."_

Sam laughed, "But nothing that Takashi Shirogane couldn't solve, I'm sure."

Shiro chuckled and Sam could clearly picture Shiro scratching the side of his head. A peculiar habit from Shiro that Samuel was familiar with, and that has never left Shiro.

" _Yea, well, I can't really leave a case unfinished. It would haunt me in my sleep … sometimes quite literally."_

Samuel smiled and nodded, while turning his pen in his fingers. _That's just like Shiro, always helping others … Which is why …_

"Well, I'm glad that you've managed to once more help someone. I trust that you are well, yes?"

 _"_ _Oh yea, I'm perfectly fine. Tired, but in one piece."_

Samuel was relieved to hear that, however he did not express it because Shiro quickly cut him before the word could leave his mouth.

 _"_ _But Uncle Sam … I hope I'm not being rude but … there's something bothering you, isn't there? And whatever it is, you're really anxious to tell me."_

Samuel's mouth moved but no words came out, surprise shifting to amazement when he looked at his phone then pressed it to his ear. "Wow, you've gotten more sharp."

 _"_ _I've …_ ** _picked up_** _a few new things. But we'll leave that for another time."_

And Samuel agreed, for the time being he would put aside the subtle hesitation in the answer Shiro offered. "Right. Okay, so, Shiro, I know that you are a busy young man, with the books and your cases, but I was hoping that you would grant me a moment of your time?"

 _"_ _Of course I would. No matter how full my schedule is, I would always make make space for you guys. You know that."_

With a fond smile Samuel told himself that he should have known better than dance around what he wanted to say to Shiro. The family picture he had on his desk, between the pencil holder and the plaque of his name, served as the testament; Colleen and himself at the back of the picture with fond and proud smiles. Younger versions of his son and daughter making funny faces. Beside them, a younger version of Shiro was smiling brightly, yet Samuel knew him enough to know that Shiro had been on the verge of following his children's lead.

"Just wanted to double check, make sure that I'm not interrupting any of your projects."

 _"_ _It's okay. Just tell me, what can I do for you? The suspense is killing me here!"_

Shiro laughed which re-assured Sam even more. Yet he didn't answer immediately since he was considering how to explain despite having an ample record of Keith's torment laying in the middle of his desk.

"I'm not supposed to disclose any information since it's unethical, and would never dream of violating someone's privacy, so all I can tell you right now is that I really need help with a patient of mine."

The other line went into still silence long enough for Samuel to worry that the call got disconnected.

 _"_ _A patient?"_ Shiro finally echoed as if testing that he heard Samuel right.

A knowing smile spread across Samuel's face as he knew the deeper context within Shiro's question, "Yes Shiro, a patient."

 _"_ _Why would you need help with a patient? And from me no less? You're one of the best psychologists in town. You've helped hundreds of people."_

"This patient Shiro, he's … He's a _peculiar_ case. Actually reminds me of you."

Samuel could feel it, even in the short silence that followed, he knew he had Shiro's interest. Though Samuel was certain that Shiro was going to come look into the situation regardless of him picking out Shiro's curiosity so directly.

 _"_ _Huh. Interesting …"_ Shiro hummed.

"It's beyond my field of expertise. There's only so much I can do for the poor boy." Samuel was disheartened since, as he spoke, he flipped through the record again landing on the page where he had the newspaper clippings. That picture of a much younger Keith, much too frightened for any boy that age.

 _"_ _What time do you need me there?"_

"I'll be in a session with him tomorrow, at," Sam drawled as he searched his agenda for the time, "three o'clock tomorrow. Think you can make it?"

 _"_ _I'll be there."_

"Thank you Shiro."

 _"_ _No problem Uncle Sam. I'll see you tomorrow."_

"Yes, take care."

They hung up and Sam breathed out a sigh of relief. Samuel was putting all his faith on Shiro, looking once more at the picture on his desk. And he was eager for whatever the next day could bring.

 _If anyone can understand Keith the most, I'm sure it's Shiro._

Barely had Samuel finished that thought when two quick, sharp knocks on the door took him out of his thoughts like dejavu. He wasn't given the time to react when Colleen peeked through the door with a less than amused look on her face.

"'I'll be there in a few', eh, Mister?" She chided putting a fisted hand on her hip while keeping the other on the door handle.

Samuel offered her a sheepish smile that was going to be accompanied by an apology, along with the news that Shiro called. However, Colleen had none of it, interrupting him just as he had opened his mouth.

"No, no, no. No, 'buts' from you. Diner is getting cold and you better get down to the dining room before I send a picture to your children of how I have to tie you to the chair and feed you like a baby."

Samuel laughed while he stood up rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, alright, I'm coming, I'm coming. Please have mercy on me. I don't think Matt or Katie will ever let me live it down."

Colleen smirked as Samuel approached her and they headed out the door, "That's the idea."

Samuel laughed placing his arm around her shoulders and lead them out.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello and welcome to my first Sheith fic! Thank you so much for stopping by and dedicating me some of your time. As you may have noticed in the tags I will be adding character tags and other tags as the story progresses, rating might change as well. I do it this way because I feel like the tags could be a give away and I'd like to keep some things a surprise. Please let me know your thoughts, I'd be glad to hear them. This work has been greatly inspired by the Netflix series called 'The Haunting of Hill House', which if you haven't seen I definitely recommend that you to check it out!

A huge shoutout to thequalityrunaway whom edited and beta'd this work~~~ Thank you!

And a special thanks to Neo too who helped me in the early stages of development!

You guys rock!


	2. Sensation

**Chapter 2: Sensation**

The darkness is smothering. Its shadows are rampant, crawling over the walls to ooze into the life of every unwary soul. Corrupted are the tendrils that climb up the young man's skin, under the guise of a warm caress.

Alert, blue eyes shoot open through a thin veil of black.

Everything is silent, like it should be. The stillness shrills in a piercing ring. He is alone in his room, on his bed where there should be nothing to fear. All of his things were right where he left them; his messenger bag haphazardly in a corner, and a pair of red converse laying by it; worn and faded in color ...

Yes, everything was like he left it … Why is his chest tightening then?

Ribbons of bright yellow sliced through the blinds, reminding him that he has somewhere to be. Even if he's reluctant his brain tries to arise the rest of his body.

Not one muscle moves.

Confusion comes along with insistence that ends in a hollow attempt.

Panic ruptures his beating muscle, it drowns his chest then spreads like vines.

It gets cold. Far too cold even for the blanket that should protect him from the bite.

Expectation creeps eerily and twists the mental fortitude it is supposed to create.

His fingers spas as full awareness bring the shadows closer. They rush nearer with every desperate breath that fights their way pass the clog in his chest.

No amount of effort helps with making not even the smallest of movements. It is when instinct demands to call out for help, but his lips are stuck together. Not that his tongue does any better, it can produce no more than a pathetic, minuscule whimper.

The knob on his door turns, unbidden, offering the hope of someone, somehow has heard his pleas.

The door creaks, apprehensive to show what hides behind. Silence greets him with the smell of something burning. A stench that's all too familiar.

Logic told him that the stove could be on, that there must be someone in the kitchen. Of course, it was little comfort to him.

He hears a wheeze. Raspy in a way that is almost inhuman. That too, he recognizes.

Tears scratch at the eyes he moves about in a frantic search for any escape. As if that can free him from the paralysis, deep down he knows better. Impatient his mind becomes, blaring alarm bells that fizzle out in the nothing. The wheezing drags itself closer with every raps of breath. Rationale dictates that muscles should move in tandem with instincts.

Please no, he wants to say. Please go away, he wants to beg. But his tongue was dead weight. Even small noises was an arduous task.

If he closed his eyes it would go away, or so he believed.

The wheezing stops.

For a moment he thinks he can breathe.

Bone crushing pain grapples one of his wrists.

Screams ram against his throat desperate to break free from their prison. His breath falters, it comes short, interrupted, it feels like an ice cold spear has impaled his lungs. The grip pulls wanting to drag him into the unknown.

The Darkness smothers. Its shadows became chains. It is a tormentor that dutifully shows him his biggest nightmare. A tall figure merged with unnatural shadows. The smell of burned skin reaffirms its grip on his lungs.

 _Keith. Keith. Come with us, Keith._

Soundless words that whisper chills upon his skin, they shake him from head to toe. He forces a sound from deep within but his lips are still sealed.

He tries again. Again. Again. And again.

He pleads for the torture to end. He prays for someone to liberate him.

He pleads and he pleads for the burned people to leave.

In a swish leaves on the street were disturbed from their passing and made to dance in the wake of a black blur. So like distant thunder the engine of the Jeep rumbled to let its presence known.

A loud and vulgar yawn was the only sign of a restless night that Shiro was going to show. The yawn caused him to grip the steering wheel tighter.

"That's the hundredth time you've yawned in the last twenty minutes. I'm beginning to fear for our young lives ... I should drive, bro."

Small tears formed in the corner of Shiro's eyes. He brought up one of his hands and without taking off his eyeglasses he rubbed away the tiredness. "There's _no way_ I'm letting _you_ drive Black, _Matt_."

Matt clicked his teeth then rolled his eyes, and in a somewhat offended tone he said, "What, you don't trust me?"

Shiro shot him a deadpan look over the rim of his thin eyeglasses, blinking every now and then. The look lasted a few seconds before Shiro returned his attention to the road.

"Aww come on, it's not like I'm gonna go all Speed Racer and do anything to your precious 'Black.' We are bros, Shiro!" Matt completed his whining with crossing his arms and pouting.

Shiro scoffed and shook his head, "We are, and I would trust you with my back in _anything_ else. Except my car."

"Is this what I get for caring? You and Pidge are the same, you don't appreciate me." Matt exaggerated his sigh while slumping back on his chair. He took out his phone in a huffy display.

But the gestures were done with the intent to tease, Shiro knew. He huffed with a smile as he reached to ruffle Matt's long light brown hair. "You're so melodramatic."

Matt first responded with a grumpy sounding hum then changed the topic. "So, what _did_ keep you awake? Don't tell me it was writer's block." There was mild annoyance in Matt's tone. Shiro getting restless over lack of inspiration was nothing new.

"No, I actually wished that it had been that. It was the vibes I picked up from uncle Sam yesterday. That call …" Shiro trailed off into a short pause. He thought back on the call and tried to separate and name what he felt when talking to Sam.

At the sudden silence Matt looked from his phone to Shiro as he sat up on his chair. "Where they bad vibes?"

Shiro knitted his brows as he sat back. One hand stayed on the wheel while the other went up to fiddle with the charm he wore around his neck. Matt watched him rub the old lion head perched atop a white quartz stone. Shortly after Shiro brought the charm up to press it below his lower lip.

"Concern. Doubt. Anger. Desperation." Shiro answered while lightly tapping the charm against his chin between each word. There was other things that were occurring to Shiro that he chose not to disclose to not worry Matt too much. "Uncle Sam was definitely on edge but most of these vibes don't even belong to him, rather, they've clung. And _that's_ what worries me."

Matt hummed as he seemed to think on Shiro's explanation. "Huh, that's not like him … then again, he has been working a lot with Keith, lately."

"Keith. That's his patient, right? The one he asked me to help with?"

"Yea. That's his name. Dad didn't mention it?"

Shiro shook his head, "No. Might've slipped his mind or he wanted Keith to introduce himself when I see him?" He looked at Matt while shrugging and raising and eyebrow.

Matt stuck out his lower lip as he shrugged back. Shiro followed up with another question.

"Do you know him? Keith, I mean." Shiro asked unable to keep his curiosity.

Matt shrugged a shoulder, "Not much. He's one of the guys bunking with Katie. We've met him a few times but … Keith. He's _very_ reserved from what I've seen, doesn't talk much especially if sis is not around. Poor guy's been through a whole lot of shit. Katie is quite protective of him … "

There was genuine sympathy from Matt's part, his voice going soft in the last few words. Then it was Shiro's turn to hum and contemplate Matt's answer. He had to admit to himself that he was disappointed since that wasn't much information to go on. But there was one little detail that caught his attention.

Matt said that Keith was 'bunking' with Pidge, their little sister. Which lead to the question if Pidge was friends with this person or was he an acquaintance. Shiro was aware that Pidge shared an apartment with her friends. But at that moment Shiro was wondering if there had been any mention of any Keith before. He threaded through the fogginess misting over his sleepy brain. There was Hunk, and Lance, if he recalled right. Yet Shiro felt he was forgetting something. There was a little hole in his mind that he guessed it could be this so called Keith. Shiro would have to ask Pidge for more information to be sure.

Even so, Shiro felt more invested as not only was Keith Sam's patient, he was one of Pidge's friends. That meant _two_ family members were counting on his help. The obligation to succeed became more plain.

Sooner than later they took a turn and the familiar two story house peeked out from behind some lush trees. Matt straightened in his chair smiling bright as the afternoon they were in.

"Ah, home sweet home." Matt sighed out, relaxation written all over him as he put his phone away.

Shiro hummed in agreement, his grin matching Matt's. Up the cobblestone driveway Shiro lead his beloved Jeep. He was mindful as he parked right next to Pidge's distinct car, a green Kia Soul.

"You know Mom is going to give you a little ear pull, right?" Matt sniggered as he hopped off the Jeep and Shiro followed soon after he turned off the engine.

"I don't doubt it …" Smiling to himself, Shiro mumbled as he closed the door. He fixed his black leather jacket, making sure that he looked presentable. He didn't want Sam and Colleen, especially, fretting over him looking tired. He continued to smile anyways as he imagined the scenario.

Shiro always stayed in touch with the Holts, made sure they were okay and give them updates about his life. But Shiro wrapped his mind around the fact that he hasn't stopped by in person for a while. And that was the reason why Shiro was expecting the 'ear-pull', as Matt described it. Because if there was one thing very important to the Holts it was family. As one would expect from growing up in the Holt household Shiro took that teaching to heart.

"Think that if I stop for lunch everyday I'll be let off easy?" Shiro chuckled as the both of them skipped up the steps towards the front door.

"Wishful thinking bro, wishful thinking." Matt replied smirking as Shiro nodded in agreement and rang the doorbell.

Hardly seconds after the bell crooned their arrival, they heard running footsteps. They were soon followed by an excited shout of, "It's Shiro!"

The call of his name earned a fond smile as he recognized the voice. But that also meant that there was an imminent impact sure to follow and Shiro braced himself for it.

The door swung open. Shiro wasn't completely done opening his arms when a young woman latched onto him like a Koala.

"Shiro!" Her thin arms wrapped around his neck while her thin legs tied around his thighs. She grunted as her embrace tightened as best it could.

Shiro chuckled and squeezed her back. Their eyeglasses creaked between their pressed cheeks and Shiro loosened his hold. "Heya Pidge. It's been a little while."

"Sure has!" Pidge said then jumped off keeping a confident smile that was as warm and bright as the tones of her clothing. It always reminded Shiro of nature whenever he saw her. Lime green and pristine white of her tank top and gray sporty shorts. She sported ankle high casual boots that suggested an adventurous and curious spirit.

After she fixed her glasses from the hug, Pidge noticed Matt beside Shiro. "Oh Matt! You decided to tag along too! I thought you were going to be busy working on you next video today, or you know, with work?"

"And skip on Mom's cooking? Pft, no chance. The video can wait a little longer, and I'm off for a few days so, that's a plus." Matt opened his arms to her while pouting, "No hug for me though?"

Pidge's grin grew from ear to ear and she near tackled into Matt's open arms. Matt lifted her only enough to keep her on her tiptoes to then sway her from side to side. Pidge sounded like she had mumbled something against Matt's torso, but Shiro couldn't make it out.

Matt sent a wink Shiro's way and the feeling of mischief struck Shiro. He immediately knew what Matt was about to do. Shiro opened his eyes wide as if to tell him not to do it. Yet Matt, with swift and least effort, picked Pidge up to carry her over his shoulder.

"'Ey! Matt, what are you - come on! Put me down! You _had_ to ruin the moment?" She emphasized her protest by pulling on Matt's ponytail.

It did little since Matt turned to Shiro and asked, "Shall we go in?" Then lead the way.

Shiro chuckled at Pidge's indignant look as he followed. The smell of Lavender, that Shiro was certain came from a vaporizer. It was a whiff of nostalgia. He would always go back to the days when Matt, Pidge and himself helped plant said kind of flowers in the backyard. He also remembered all three of them snuggling in sheets caressed by the same aroma. It made him smile.

"And what are _you_ laughing at? Especially since you're in big trouble for not dropping by, Mister!" She huffed inflating her cheeks while squinting her eyes at Shiro .

Shiro rose his hands to placate while offering a sheepish grin. It didn't matter that Pidge was hardly half his own size. Her attitude made up for her tiny stature. "Aw come on Pidge, it hasn't been _that_ long, and it's not like we don't talk on the phone."

"It's not the saaaammeeee Shiro!" Pidge's body sagged as she whined.

They passed the hallway into a very spacious space. Living room and kitchen adjoined, both modernized with each time that Shiro visited.

Once tiled floors have transitioned into laminate, plank flooring.

Floral motifs on cushions had been replaced with charcoal gray or dark blue. It gave the house an extra touch of elegance and fit the contemporary age. No matter the revamps done there was one thing that always remained unchanged. The house was always clean, seamless, perfumed with scents to fit the calm atmosphere.

Yet, Shiro grabbed the quartz stone dangling from his neck. There was something out of place.

"And you call _me_ melodramatic, Shiro?" Matt huffed throwing a quick glance at Shiro as they walked. He then looked ahead again and patted Pidge's back, "It's only been like around two weeks since he was last here."

"Don't _defend him_ Matt. 'Sides you two are neighbors, it's not like you'll notice the difference." Pidge grumbled crossing her arms under her. The expression she wore caused her cheeks to puff up.

Shiro had to bite back his lower lip not to utter out loud how adorable Pidge looked doing a face like that. It would only upset her more and Shiro wasn't sure if he or Matt could help themselves from teasing her for it. "Don't worry Pidge, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"You're gonna have to pay for it big time Takashi Shirogane." She grunted.

"Aw, I know how to cheer you up." Matt started poking her on the ribs to make her squirm in his hold.

"No! Stop! Don't tickle me Mat-ahh! Shiro! Tell him to stap!" Between giggles and kicks Pidge begged as she tried to free herself.

Shiro sniggered and was going to join in the fun. He thought he could either catch Matt in a headlock, or carry them both over his shoulders. Showing off his strength, and his height would surely annoy Matt and get him to stop bothering Pidge. Yet Shiro didn't get to do either as they heard somebody clear their throat for their attention.

There, a woman stood by the large island that drew the boundary between the living room and the kitchen. One hand on her lithe hip, the other drumming her nails against the glossy top of dark marble.

The three blinked at her looking silly and owlish for a few short moments. Then, Matt greeted her first with a casual mien. Shiro followed in contrast more apologetic and sheepish.

"Oh, hey Mom."

"Hey auntie Colleen."

Colleen held a chiding posture. The smirk on her face, and the slight arch of her eyebrow told Shiro that it was more of a fond gesture. "Unbelievable. You just got here and are already stirring up trouble."

Matt clicked his teeth and tried deny it as he put Pidge down. "Nah, trouble? We're not causing trouble, we're _bonding_." Matt walked towards Colleen with his arms open to gather her in his arms and place several kisses on her head.

Pidge made a noise like that of blowing a raspberry and muttered something darkly. She sat on a stool, a book and a notebook laid open in front of it. A set of keys and a phone encased in a cover of the face of a robotic green lion, strewn over the book.

Shiro thought he heard Pidge complain about her cheeks burning thanks to Matt.

Colleen hummed in sarcasm as she hugged her son back. "And I am to assume that _you_ were the one that started this 'bonding?'"

"Actually it was Pidge who started it, because she's a good lil' sis." Matt said to his defense letting go of Colleen to go look what was cooking in the pots on the stove, and inside the oven. His snooping around released a plethora of smells: homemade macaroni and cheese baking. Garlic bread, and pork meat accentuated by the distinct smell of bacon.

Shiro's mouth watered and he couldn't wait to taste the food. But first, he received Colleen into a warm, tight embrace when she approached him.

"And you, Takashi Shirogane, ought to consider yourself lucky that I was generous enough to make your favorite dish. Considering your little absence." Colleen's tone was playful but there was no denying that she was chiding him.

Shiro chuckled and after a few seconds he pushed her at his arms' length, holding her shoulders. Colleen rose an eyebrow reaching up to tussle the white fringe of Shiro's otherwise dark hair.

"Goodness Shiro, you dyed it?" Colleen's sounded lenient as she put her hand on her waist.

Shiro felt like he was a child again and he threaded his fingers through the white streaks. "A little bit … It was Pidge's idea."

"No it wasn't! You know well it was Matt's idea!" Pidge protested from her place on the stool.

Meanwhile Matt was stealing a taste out of the mac and cheese, nonchalant as if he wasn't even in the room. And as if he wasn't usually the one to suggest crazy ideas.

"Well, regardless of how it happened, or whose idea was it, I suppose that it _does_ look good on you Shiro." Colleen conceded through a sigh, but still had an affectionate smile on her face. She then frowned again and added, "But don't go crazy with the dye unless you want to end up bald. It'd be a shame. You have such nice hair."

Matt snorted and Shiro winced at the idea as he couldn't picture himself bald. Shiro conceded holding his hands up between them. "Okay auntie, I won't, I won't."

"Good." Colleen gave a firm nod while patting Shiro on the head then walked off towards the fridge. "Well Shiro, sit down. And do any of you want anything to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee? I also Katie's and Shiro's favorite watermelon juice."

"Oh, watermelon juice? I'd love some! Please." Shiro chirped.

"Same here!" Pidge rose her hand to second Shiro.

"I'll have some soda." Said Matt.

"Why did I even ask." Colleen smirked, fondness on her face as she proceeded to serve them the drinks.

"Soooo, how is your latest book coming along Shiro? What kind of interesting supernatural subjects are you going to talk about?" Pidge leaned over the counter top, her hands tapping on it with rhythm as she waited for Shiro's reply.

Shiro grabbed his necklace rubbing it between his fingers, "Ah, well, progress has been slow. My muses have been rather quiet." As Shiro answered Colleen handed both him and Pidge their drinks. He muttered his thanks and took a sip. The cold liquid soothed his throat. It was a delight that brought him back to the hot afternoons in his childhood.

"Oh I'm sure they'll come to you soon enough. Don't force them." Colleen commented as she proceeded to give Matt his soda.

"Yeah. I have a couple of small drafts and ideas, but nothing concrete yet." Shiro replied in general after he had swallowed another gulp of juice.

"And like always, you won't say anything until you have something set in stone, right?" Matt said disappointed.

"Naturally." Pidge answered for Shiro knowing him too well.

Shiro rolled his eyes at them while pushing his glasses back. He straightened his back in a poised gesture he answered with, "You can't rush genius."

It was both Matt and Pidge's turns to roll their eyes, both also throwing in a small groan as well.

Shiro smirked as he received the reaction he was expecting. After taking a triumphant sip from his drink Shiro changed the subject. "So, Pidge, how's having your own place treating you? Are your friends, Hunk and Lance, was it?"

"Oh, it's great actually. There's no better feeling of being in a place where you're 'the Alpha', no offense Mom. And my friends are great! I mean, yea we have some bickering about who gets to choose a movie, but it's all good. Lance would love to meet you by the way, he's a super huge fan of yours. I'm sure he'd even like to feature you in his blog."

Shiro nodded at the reminder that he had a fan amongst Pidge's friends. However Shiro was waiting for any mention of the name Keith. But he found it strange when Pidge didn't say anything. He was going to prod more when Matt interrupted with a scoff.

"Well Lance's gonna have to fall in line and wait, I'm still waiting for our **dear** _big bro_ to show up in one of _my_ videos for _my_ blog." Matt sent a pointed look towards Shiro.

Pidge grinned, amused, taking a swig from her juice while looking at Matt. She responded before words could leave Shiro's open mouth. "Right, Lance is your, what did you call him again? Your 'blog rival'?"

"Damn straight he is! So Shiro, when you meet - _if_ you meet him- don't you _dare_ show up in his videos. I'll be very upset." Though Matt was being serious about what he said, he was still being comical about it. He squinted his eyes while puckering his lower lip.

"Don't worry Matt, I'm not going to show up in anyone's blog before yours." Shiro's eyes went to the ceiling as he talked in a monotone voice. As an afterthought. while swirling his cup, Shiro added, "You do little to remind me too. And I thought you had more views on your science videos anyways?"

"Dude, I remind you, often. You get so distracted sometimes that the only reason you haven't, literally, lost your head it's because it's attached to your neck. _And,_ you'd be surprised, people like both science and the mysterious, I got a very good following on both. Plus, my looks help," Matt used a suave tone as he ran his hand smoothly through his honey glossed hair.

The action wasn't amusing to Shiro and he rose an eyebrow at Matt. Pidge made sound of disgust with her tongue sticking out. From her place by the stove, Colleen roller her eyes while sighing.

Soon after a light sound of shoes clacking against the neutral colored wood floor. They all looked behind them and saw Sam coming towards them.

"What's with the bickering?" Sam asked as he went to Matt first, then greeted him with a tight hug.

"Oh nothing, the children just being children." Colleen answered offhandedly, as she started preparing a cup of coffee for Sam.

Sam chuckled as he patted Matt on the shoulder, "Causing trouble for your mother already?"

"Trouble is our middle name." Matt responded and Sam ruffled his hair before moving towards Shiro.

After putting his drink down Shiro stood from his chair. "Hi uncle Sam" Shiro received Samuel with a strong hug, both of them patting each other's backs while they were at it.

Immediately Shiro felt some of the anxiousness lift off of Sam. The relief washing over him like warm water soothes the tension of a long day. The feeling became even more clear at Sam's next words, "It's very good to see you and I'm so glad you came."

When they dislodged from the hug Sam kept one hand on Shiro's shoulder. Hints of the disquiet still lingered in the air around Sam like ripples even as he said those words. As a sign of reassurance Shiro's brows knitted the slightest bit and he laid a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder in return. Sam nodded and moved to sit down across from Pidge and Matt.

"So Katie, Keith is still coming to the session right? I'm surprised he didn't tag along with you." Sam asked as Colleen handed him a cup of coffee and he muttered his thanks.

Pidge's shoulders immediately twitched as they tensed at the question. Shiro drank from his juice as he listened to Pidge answer.

"I offered him a ride, but he looked like he wasn't feeling too well today. He said was still going to come though, Hunk offered to drop him off." Pidge's sentence ended in a very subtle drawl as she turned her phone in her hand.

Shiro squinted his eyes at her when he sensed the uncertainty within her. Pidge must have felt Shrio's gaze on her as she lifted the gaze from her phone to look at him in the eye. The exchange didn't last long since Pidge's lips pressed into a firm line when she turned her attention to her phone. Shiro's brows knitted further in intrigue. He considered if he should push for a question or wait until they were alone to talk more.

The sight of a bed with a figure he couldn't discern flashed through his head. Sadness hung heavy in his chest accompanied by the smell of booze. A spike of stress and desperation, strange symptoms that struck Shiro with the force of a punch to the gut.

"Not feeling well?" Sam sat back on his stool crossing his arms and looking concerned. Sam looked thoughtful before he made a question that sounded more like a guess. "He's sick?"

Pidge put her phone down to look at her father, yet looked reluctant to look at him in the eye for too long. "No. He hasn't been able to sleep well lately. So I told him to rest a little before today's session."

Sam hummed softly and took a sip out of his cup of coffee then took a quick look at his watch. "I hope he's okay and that he'll make it," he then looked at Shiro, "Shiro you don't ha - Shiro? Are you alright?"

Hand on his forehead, gray eyes fixed on the loud ticking of his own watch. Shiro hadn't realized that he spaced out as he sorted through what he just experienced.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Resounded the little arm behind the glass. The same heavy vibes Shiro had picked up through the phone the day before loomed over him with purpose. Shiro grabbed the lion head around his neck.

He got surprised that he didn't pick up on them quicker as the energy was charged. No one else was being affected in any unusual ways by it, for the moment at least. Shiro was impressed by that, but very thankful for it.

"Shiro?" Pidge called him while holding his wrist.

Shiro's eyes drifted up to meet hers, then Sam's.

"I think you left us there for a little." Sam said with concern.

Shiro opened his mouth but had to think on his words before talking, "Oh! My bad. I was thinking about something."

Sam and Pidge exchanged looks, the latter shrugging at Sam's questioning gaze.

"Okay, food's going to be ready soon." Colleen interrupted. Matt muttered his appreciation under the claim that he was starving. Colleen put her hand on her shoulder, "Katie dear, you think Keith would like to stay for dinner afterwards? I made more than enough ..."

"Oh, um," Pidge's lips pulled to a side as she seemed to give it some thought. When she answered, Shiro felt a hint if disappointment in her, "I'm not sure. It depends on how he's feeling? Though you know it's kinda a long shot."

"Perhaps Hunk could stay? You said he was dropping Keith off right?" Sam offered after he had taken a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, he definitely would. I think he has some new recipes he wants to share with you Mom." Pidge said smiling as she looked from Sam to Colleen.

Shiro's brows knitted when he looked at Matt questioningly. Matt shrugged and Shiro looked from Colleen to Pidge with the same expression.

"Oh yeah, my friend Hunk, he likes talking to Mom about recipes and all that kitchen stuff. They can talk forever about that." Pidge rolled her eyes and drawled the word 'forever' for emphasis.

Shiro smirked and looked at Colleen for confirmation. Colleen was quick to defend herself from her daughter's slight sassing. Her indignant posture making everyone around snigger or smile.

"Hm, I don't see you _or_ Lance complaining about that. If it weren't for that sweet boy you two would be stuck eating junk or microwavable food all the time or like starve. Honestly." Colleen huffed and turned to Matt and Shiro with an eyebrow raised, "I hope _you two_ have moved more past that issue."

They would have said yes, but Shiro and Matt knew that Colleen knew better. There was no way they could fool her sharp motherly instincts. What other choice did they have but to admit that neither of them were capable of cooking without setting off a fire alarm. They were somewhat subtle about it though. Shiro cleared his throat while playing with his chain and looking away. Matt occupied himself by chugging down a large part of his soda.

Colleen crossed her arms while shaking her head disapprovingly. Sam and Pidge did not stop themselves from chuckling under their breaths.

Unexpected, a sound that started as a low hum then gradually increased into a heart pumping tune. The mirth subsided and all eyes landed on Pidge's cell phone.

"Oh, speaking of the devil, he must be on his way." Pidge either didn't care or didn't realize her odd choice of words as she casually answered the call, "Hey Hunk. Are you-"

Everyone watched as Pidge got cut off mid question. Her eyes glistening like honey in the light flickered about. Shiro felt Sam and Matt's gazes on him but he remained focused on the worry that struck as quick as lightning. Shiro saw it before it was even evident on Pidge's face.

"Wait, what?!" She shouted standing from her chair in an abrupt motion. Her knuckles going white from the tight hold she had on her phone.

Shiro and Matt exchanged worried and confused glances. Sam and Colleen kept looking at their daughter as she listened while grabbing her keys.

"Alright, jus' hold on, I'm on my wa- NO! Tell Lance to stop doing that, it'll only make it worse! I'll be there as fast as I can. Jus' hang on a sec." Pidge motioned Sam towards her.

Sam looked confused but he stood and went to her.

"Dad, Keith's having a fit! We need to go! Here, take the phone, talk to them and I'll drive!" And then she was off before anyone could say or do anything else.

Sam gave one look at the bewildered faces in the kitchen, he brought the phone to his ear, and ran after Pidge. Colleen moved from her spot to look down the hallway only to see the front door slam shut behind Sam.

 **A/N:** Yo! Here it is, chapter two! I have to say that the opening scene really gave me a run for my money. I was trying to achieve a certain vibe with it and I had to redo it a couple of times, lol. So, it fyou have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! As per usual, shoutout to thequalityrunaway for being awesome and for all the help! Alright then, I hope you all enjoyed and see you in the next chapter~~~


	3. Insight

**Chapter 3: Insight**

Sam made his way up the two flights of stairs towards Pidge's apartment, a white paper bag in one hand. Its contents clattered like a rattle with each quick step. The door was left unlocked when Sam left, so he just walked in.

Inside the humble space, it smelled of chicken soup. The decor looked modern and things were cluttered in some places while tidy in others; computers, game consoles, books, all of the typical objects of a young adult displayed in an organized mess. Warm colors made everything look bright and full of vitality, reflecting the exuberance of youth.

In the kitchen were two young men, Pidge's other housemates and friends. One was tall and husky, a busy chef fussing over a boiling pot. The long, amber yellow sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his tongue stuck out in concentration. The other, beside the chef, hovered a much lankier boy that looked guilty as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Sam raised a hand to call their attention as he walked in.

"Oh, Dr. Holt, you're back. I'm making some soup for Keith … I thought he could use something light to eat, you know, to settle his stomach?" The larger of the two men said almost in one breath. Clearly still nervous from the whole situation if the anxious twitching was any indication.

Sam smiled fondly at him as he was touched by the kindness. "That's very thoughtful of you Hunk. Thank you." Sam looked at the one next to Hunk. The young man refused to lift his gaze from the floor, his finger was tapping his upper arm rhythmically. Sam felt empathy for him so he used a calm tone when he asked him, "Lance, did you throw away the box I gave you?"

"Yes, Dr. Holt. We also cleaned up the mess in Keith's room … changed sheets and all that." Lance mumbled.

Sam offered him a sympathetic smile as he walked towards Lance and placed a hand on one of his shoulders. That was the only instance that Lance looked up at Sam.

"Don't worry about it Lance. You didn't know, it was unintentional and he should be alright now. Just try to be more careful when you touch Keith from now on. As you saw, he is easily overstimulated with skin contact, it distresses him more than it calms him."

Lance stared at Sam for a few seconds while his blue eyes moved like he was trying to understand what Sam explained. After a few seconds Lance nodded softly and averted his gaze to the boiling soup. Though he held some of his guilt he appeared to think hard about Sam's words.

Sam could sympathize and as a sign of reassurance he patted Lance's shoulder. Soon after, Lance nodded softly and San took it like Lance understood.

"I'm gonna go check on them then. Can you pass me a bottle of water for Keith, please?" Sam asked with a calm smile.

"Sure thing Mr. Holt. I think Keith's still in the shower, but Pidge in his room." Lance informed as he went to the fridge to get the bottle of water.

"Yeah, I think Keith is feeling a little better… well, stomach-wise at least. Not sure about the rest though ..." Hunk added to Lance's response as he looked through the cupboard for a bowl. Then added a few herbs to the soup and stirred it before serving it. His tone was a little somber in the last sentence.

"Thank you," Sam took the bottle and headed all the down the hall. He passed the bathroom, and the first door to his right was Keith's room. It was followed by Hunk and Lance's room, and adjacent to their room was the master bedroom, Pidge's bedroom.

Keith's door was ajar but he still knocked as he came in with caution. He caught the sight of Pidge sitting on the edge of Keith's bed slightly swinging her feet. Her head was bent down so Sam couldn't exactly if she was looking at her feet, or at the folder that rested on her lap.

Her posture was of both contemplation and concern, Sam believed and he knew why. He was sure of the contents in that folder and he knew what to expect. Yet, he was troubled at the sight of it.

"Katie," Sam called her attention first hoping not to startle her out of her thoughts. Thankfully she wasn't startled and when she lifted her gaze Sam added his question, "Where's Keith?"

"Still in the shower. I suggested him to go take a nice, long, warm bath so that he could relax. And told him to brush his teeth to get rid of the taste of … well, you know." She shrugged as she finished the sentence and looked down at the folder in her hands again.

Sam hummed while setting the water bottle and paper bag on the desk beside Keith's bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked gesturing to the faint red marks printed on her upper arm. It was the same spot where Keith had held on to her earlier, so desperate and spooked that he must have not realized how strongly he was holding on.

Pidge hadn't complained, she didn't mind going with how she looked at her arm and answered in a rush, "Yeah, I'm ok. It doesn't really hurt. It wasn't his fault."

"I know Katie, I know." Sam said in a tone to ease her.

Pidge furrowed her eyebrows and fiddled with her thumbs, inciting a moment of thoughtful silence.

"It's just like that time with Shiro …"

The look Pidge gave Sam was enough for him to know what 'time' she was talking about. Sam's heart sank at the reminder. Other people in that situation might have backed away, but Sam could not find it in his heart to do so.

Keith deserved the same chance.

"You should look at these by the way…"

Sam was taken out of his short recalling as Pidge handed out the folder. And again Sam felt a little unsettled, but he didn't show it. Instead he took if his eyeglasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt and looked at Pidge with a disapproving look.

"Should _you_ be looking at this? It's not yours."

Pidge shrugged, "Keith left it open on top of the bed. I didn't turn any pages."

When he held it Sam's stomach dropped, and even when he was supposed to look into it, he hesitated. It should have been something very simple, a routine set by himself as a centerpiece of Keith's therapy.

Sam opened the folder. One piece of paper then the other, his eyes skimming through and each time Sam's brows crinkled more. It was instantaneous when his skin got a prickly feeling, he felt like he wanted to squirm and his hairs wanted to stand to end.

He was going to ask Pidge if she felt the same. But a soft creaking from the door made both Sam and Pidge simultaneously look towards it. Keith was coming in looking bedraggled, a medium red towel draped over his dripping wet hair, his feet shuffling in a somber trudge. Keith spared a very brief look to the folder without saying anything.

Although he was not calm, as they would like him to be, solemnity was preferable to how they had found him. Curled up into a corner, bed sheets a complete mess, looking confused, frightened. At that moment, to Keith, anything that came through the door was his enemy.

"Do you feel a little better Keith?" Sam was the one to ask while putting the folder on the desk behind him.

Keith however kept his head down as he sauntered towards them. Whether it was out of shame or because he was drying his hair with the red towel looped around his neck. Sam suspected it was more because of the first option.

They both waited as Keith climbed on to the bed, at first looking like he was going to sit next to Pidge, but then seemed to have decided to sit back against the wall. Keith's right hand automatically grappled the opposite wrist, right where a bruise was starting to form, and with the left thumb he stroke his left hand up and down in a steady pace.

"I'm sorry," were Keith's first words after what felt like a long moment of tense, harrowing silence. When he apologized, his eyes darted down to Pidge's arm.

Both Sam and Pidge followed his gaze and Pidge replied while shaking her head, "It's alright, don't worry about it man." She then gestured with her head towards his hands. "What about you, want some ice for that? Looks like it's going to bruise."

Keith shook his head softly and swallowed thickly, looking uncomfortable as he did. His throat was most likely raw from the fit he had.

"I got you some painkillers." Sam stepped away from the desk and turned around digging into the paper bag for a bottle of painkillers. He uncapped the bottle and took out two pills and grabbed the water handing both things to Keith, "I suggest you drink them before the headache kicks in." Sam put some emphasis, but not in his tone, if not on how he looked at Keith over his glasses. His eyes patient and knowing in the way years as both a father, and a Doctor have taught him how.

There was little to no defiance in the frown he received from Keith. It was more of a look worn by exhaustion and that didn't last long. Keith could be stubbing, perhaps feisty at times, but Sam had never seen the be disrespectful. Sam was still working on building trust with Keith, but the young man did listen to him. Even if Sam had to be a little insistent sometimes.

So Sam was glad to see that Keith took the pills without much fight, downing more than half of the water bottle in one gulp. The bottle set aside, Keith's right hand and left thumb resumed their nervous habit. Soon after, there was yet another knock on the door.

"It's alright guys." Pidge said and the door creaked open.

Hunk came in first, shuffling into the room with a tray in hand; a cold soda can next to the bowl of soup that radiated an inviting aroma. It soothed some of the thickness in the room, brewed feelings of warmth against the cold of the atmosphere. Lance followed close behind with, hands inside his pockets and quiet. Too quiet for his usually rowdy personality.

"Um, sorry to interrupt." Hunk said in general before he looked at Keith, and offered a small smile, "Hey Keith, thought you would prefer eating the soup here since you're not feeling too hot."

Embarrassment and self anger were the things Sam read on Keith's face when he looked down and away from the sweet gesture.

At the lack of a proper response from Keith, poor Hunk looked at Sam like he had done something wrong.

Sam shook his head as a way to tell Hunk to not feel bad. Smiling, he stepped in taking the tray for Keith, "Thank you Hunk, I'm sure he appreciates it." Sam assured then placed the tray on a empty space on the desk.

Hunk smiled a little again which indicated that he didn't take in stride. Some might've found it rude, but Hunk had a heart of gold and surely understood the situation. "Of course, no problem. I guess we'll leave you guys to it." Hunk turned to Lance looking at him like he was waiting for something, but Lance kept his look on the floor.

"Lance?" Pidge noticed it and she encouraged Lance to say whatever was in his mind.

Lance looked at the floor while rubbing the back of his neck for a few seconds. "Keith, I uh … I'm sorry about shaking you earlier. I didn't mean to stress you out, you scared me and I just acted out of instinct."

"Don't worry about it. Just … forget it." Keith mumbled almost immediately, avoiding Lance's gaze.

Lance frowned a little, crossing his arms as he looked to the side. Pidge would have to talk to Lance later on to prevent any misunderstanding.

Nothing else was said and Hunk took that as a queue. He held Lance by his shoulders, turned him around, and ushered him out of the room.

"Okay um we'll be outside if you need us."

Nice young men those two were. Pidge loved having them for friends and as her roommates. Sam was grateful for them as well.

Sam cleared his throat and turned to Keith.

"Ok, so, Keith. It's needless to say that you don't have to worry about today's appointment. We'll change it for tomorrow, same time. Now, I want you and your mind well rested for then, alright?" Sam instructed. Firm, but with the fatherly kindness that always distinguished him.

Pidge shifted on the bed to face Keith better and added, "Oh! And there's also someone we want you to meet. Remember Dad told you about a person who could also help you?"

Keith's head jerked as he realized something, though he kept his serious look, dark blue eyes flickering about and focused on something neither Pidge or Sam could see.

"Shiro." Keith mumbled, his eyes opening wide

Pidge's first reaction was to blink in surprise. She figured that she must have mentioned Shiro before, in passings, and conversations with Hunk and Lance when talking about Shiro's works. But she was certain that she hasn't told Keith that Shiro would be the one helping Sam. "Yea, him. How did you know it'd be him though? Is it that obvious?" She smirked to herself.

But to further Sam and Pidge's surprise, Keith shook his head. He looked from Pidge to Sam, the look on his face going from perplexed to unnerved. "I've … I've already seen this conversation, in-in a dream … I think ..."

Pidge's eyes widened and her mouth hung a little open as she looked at her Father. Sam too was surprised but he hid it under a calm composure. "Dream, you say? Like a deja vu?"

Keith opened and closed his mouth a few times, but when he found no words he shrugged. Then suddenly he nodded his head towards Pidge's general direction and blurted out, "You should get that."

"What?" Naturally, confusion was Pidge's first reaction. Barely seconds later did Pidge's phone notified her about an incoming message.

"Did you just-?" Astonished, Pidge cut herself off as she took her phone out of her pocket. She looked at it to confirm that she wasn't just imagining things. "Was this in your dream too?"

Keith grimaced as he stared out the window at the head of his bed. The grip he had on his own left wrist tightened, he flexed the fingers of that same hand, finally granting a break to the knuckle that has been rubbed almost raw.

"I don't know. I think, I- can we _please_ not talk about this right now." It was nothing short of a plea, but it came a little snappy. It was clear that Keith was uncomfortable, and getting anxious again.

"Oh, I'm sorry Keith. I'm just impressed with what you just did …" Pidge apologized

Keith took a deep breath and his expression turned regretful and conflicted, "It's alright … I'm sorry too. I brought upon myself. But I really don't want to talk about this right now."

Pidge had a good idea as to why Keith was so troubled when they talked about the abilities he clearly had. Thus, she felt a little guilty. The thing was that she grew up watching how Shiro developed his gift. To her, it was normal but not any less impressive.

Sam on the other hand, up until that moment he hadn't been entirely sure Keith had a sixth sense. And it wasn't because he didn't believe in such things. As a Doctor, he wouldn't just jump to a conclusion and he hadn't seen Keith do something convincing enough. Perhaps a few hints here and there that had been similar to the behaviors Shiro displayed when he developed his sixth sense. It was the hunch that drove him to call for Shiro, and with what he just witnessed, he was glad he did.

"May I suggest that you write about it later? It clearly bothers you had it's a good thing to let it out. It can be another thing we could about tomorrow, if you'd like."

Keith huffed a tired, humorless smile, "I don't think it'll make much of a difference. Premonitions. Ghosts. All of that stuff … it's absurd. It's all in my head … has to be ..."

It was chanted like a mantra from a person that was not only uncomfortable, but also afraid of himself. Keith's stress was becoming evident on his thumb began to rub his knuckle once again.

Sam saw the gears in Pidge's turning to argue Keith's points, saw the hint of sadness in her eyes. But he put a hand on her shoulder to ease her.

"It's just a suggestion, Keith." Sam then looked down at Pidge, "For now, I think that we should let Keith eat, Katie. It's clear Hunk put a lot of effort in this delicious looking soup, so it would be a shame to let this soup get too cold." Sam picked up the bowl and the spoon from the tray on Keith's desk and handed it over to Keith, who took said objects with reluctance. "Eat. You need your strength back. And you shouldn't be fussy like Katie here sometimes is."

"I'm _not_ fussy!" pouting at her father, Pidge protested, which earned her a smirk from Sam.

Deposited himself, Keith seemed like he couldn't help letting out a small smile. But it quickly dropped when he dropped his gaze to the soup. It was easy to notice the longing on his face, stirring the soup, round and round before taking a bite. Yet, with his tone soft, he sounded pleased when he commented on the food.

"It's very good." And Keith slurped more from the spoon.

"Do you need us to stay a while more?" Pidge asked

Keith shook his head, "You guys should go. You guys were going to have dinner, right?" I've interrupted you enough as it is."

"Yes. But, Keith, do you think it'll happen again? The sleep paralysis, I mean."

"I'm not sure. But if it does ... I'll just deal with it." Keith attempted to sound firm and sure. Yet, him looking down at the soup upon his lap showed the uncertainty he really felt, but had trouble admitting. Then as he if he himself noted that same weakness in his own voice, Keith added, "Like I always have."

Pidge looked at Sam for were both worried about Keith, but Sam's observations about Keith have taught him that the young man couldn't help seeing himself as a burden, he was uncertain how to take people's offers of help. And while both of them wanted to help Keith get through that, they had to be patient and go at Keith's pace. So head subtly shook his head at her and although she sighed, she conceded.

"If you say so. But you don't have to deal with it alone though …" Pidge mumbled. Neither of them were sure if Keith heard her as he brought a half full spoon of soup to his mouth.

"Yes Keith, please don't hesitate to call if you need us." Although it was more likely that Keith wouldn't do it. But Sam considered that reminding, _reassuring_ Keith that they wanted to help wouldn't hurt.

"And Hunk and Lance won't hesitate at all to help you if you need anything," Pidge added with a nod.

"I know. Thanks." Keith took another spoonful to his mouth while looking thoughtful. He didn't have as much trust with Hunk and Lance as he did with Pidge. Yet.

Keith needed reassurance and Pidge offered it in the form of a smile. "No problem. That's what we're here for."

The smile on Keith's face was small, but making him smile twice in a row was a victory Pidge would take. When she patted his knee she noted Keith's eyes fell on her bruised arm. Though the mark too dark, it was still noticeable. Guilt painted Keith's face.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't realize I held you so hard."

"This? Nah, don't worry about it man. I'll slap some ice on it later and it'll be good as new." Pidge winked.

Keith didn't look so convinced yet he didn't say anything else on that matter. Looking up at Sam he said, "So, we'll be seeing each other tomorrow, same hour?"

"Yes. But Katie and I won't be going yet. We'll stick around for a little more, just to make sure." Sam replied leaning back on Keith's desk which made him touch the folder he put there earlier. He grabbed it and raised it at head level for Keith to see, "Oh and by the way Keith, mind if I take these? I would like have a better look at them and we can discuss them tomorrow?"

Sam watched Keith's reaction closely. When Keith let his eyes fall on the folder, he was subtle when doing it, but he pressed himself closer to the wall. A sort of tension released into the air.

"It's fine." Keith replied in a tone so low Sam almost didn't hear him. And although he didn't think that Keith was going to refuse, Sam was glad Keith agreed easily.

"Dr. Holt?"

"Yes?"

Around went the soup again stirring up a small silence before Keith asked, "Is that Shiro guy coming tomorrow too?"

"I haven't asked him yet, it will all depend on his schedule. But I think he might come." Though Sam wasn't expecting the question, it wasn't a surprising one. With how reserved Keith was the prospect of exposing himself to someone new must have had him on edge. It worried Sam and Pidge when Keith's reply was nothing but a thoughtful hum before he took another spoonful.

"You're still okay with that?" Sam inquired calmly while also hoping that Keith hadn't changed his mind.

Which was why in the following short silence, Sam exchanged a serious, knowing look with Pidge. She was looking at him with the same concern.

They both patiently let Keith mull it over.

"Okay. If he comes, I'll meet him. Though I don't know how he'll be able to help."

"Oh, I have a good hunch that he'll be able to."

"But what if he doesn't want to help?" Keith was scowling even though his tone remained low.

Pidge chuckled, "Oh trust me, he will. He's like Dad. If he thinks it does good, he just _has_ to help. He's very cool!"

Keith's scowl was still present but it had softened as he looked from Pidge to Sam. Uncertainty clung to the pair of tired eyes prompting Sam to put a gentle hand on Keith's shoulder.

"I understand why are you concerned Keith and why are you having second thoughts. It's not easy for you to trust and don't fault yourself for that. But I believe that you should give it a chance." Sam delivered his words like an advice so that Keith didn't feel like he was being forced.

Keith held Sam's gaze for several moments, and the Doctor saw the exact moment that Keith decided to trust him. It warmed his heart to see that this scared young man was willing to try.

"We shall see."

* * *

After Sam and Pidge left in such a hurry Colleen, Matt and Shiro were left in an air of confusion and worry. Colleen asked Matt and Shiro if they were going to eat while Sam and Pidge returned. However in the Holt household it was a custom for all of them to eat together, so they refused.

To kill time instead Matt sat with Shiro in the living room, showing him his latest videos and the asks and comments people left him. For Matt it was always very easy to break any sort of tension no matter how upsetting the situation, something he picked up or inherited from Sam. Whichever was the case, Shiro was thankful for the balm. Picking up on the stress and worry from four people was falling heavily on his shoulders, especially after a restless night.

"Holy smokes Matt, that was a very good video. You're getting very good at this, you must spend a lot of time researching information about these haunted places." Shiro was thoroughly impressed by the amount of information with images each video contained despite them being about ten to twelve minutes long. All neatly organized into a 'top ten' list, and neatly complemented by tense background music and the smooth deep tone Matt used for speaking.

"Why thank you. I might just quit my real job over at the radio station."

"Oh please, don't lie to yourself. You love working with all that tech stuff too much."

Without a solid argument, Matt stuck his tongue out at Shiro. A mischievous smile spread across his lips seconds later. "I know, I know. But you know what I would reeeeaallllyyy like, bro?"

It was coming, Shiro knew what question was making Matt look like a predator that has just cornered his elusive prey. Shiro was unfazed though and he played along.

"Yes?" Shiro drawled questioningly while batting his eyes.

Matt's smirk evolved into a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat and with two taps on his phone's screen he brought up the camera. "Let's rehearse on how you can make your token appearance on my next video!"

"Really Matt?" Shiro deadpanned as Matt focused the phone camera at him.

"Yes, 'really.' My loyal fans are dying to know if we're really bros. Besides, you're basically on a little writing hiatus for family time, right? Whiiiich meeaaannsss that when you're not helping out dad, I can hog you aaalllll for myself."

"Ok, first of all, I'm not on a hiatus, I'm just going through a little writer's block. And second, you're gonna have to fight Pidge for that which, I bet all odds on her." Shiro teased.

"Aw come on Shiro, bro, buddy, pal, old friend" Matt slithered an arm around Shiro's shoulders while trying to be a devious little rascal. With his other hand he scrolled through the comments left on the video, "Look, look at these! They are practically begging for you to appear ever since they found we grew up together."

"Your point being?" Shiro vaguely wondered how people found out, wagering that it was probably through either of their social medias. But he brushed that off in favor of pushing Matt's buttons.

Shiro got exactly what he wanted; Matt's mouth falling agape as if the answer should be obvious, which, it actually was, but Shiro enjoyed Matt's often over the top reactions.

"Uh, Hello? You, one of the best, if not _the best_ writer of the supernatural? Appearing in a very popular supernatural vlog, mind you. You have any idea how many views that will reel in?!" Matt's arms opened so wide that Shiro flinched back to avoid getting hit.

"I'm glad that you can make a profit out of me being your brother Matt." For all the mischief Matt could cause at times, he really was easy to tease. Or Shiro just knew exactly when and how to push Matt's buttons. He and Pidge had years of practice in that.

"Shiro, bro," Matt put his hands in prayer on his lips then pointed them at Shiro with and exasperated breath, "help a man out with his reputation, this would totally benefit you too."

And Shiro knew it could, he wasn't against the idea. However, "Really now? Aren't you just trying to outdo that rival blog of yours? The one Pidge's friend runs? Or should I be offended that you didn't even try to deny you want to benefit from me?"

Matt pretended to think about it then shrugged without a single ounce of shame in his face, "Eh, both really."

But Matt could be a brat too, much more than Pidge and him at times. Shiro grabbed the top of Matt's head and shook it, messing his up his hair.

"What are you two arguing over?" Colleen's tired voice came from behind them and they looked up as she came to join them on the living room.

"Mom! Tell Shiro to show up in my vlog and to stop messing up my hair!" Matt protested as he yanked Shiro's hand off his head, causing for some lose strands to stand in silly directions.

Shiro reached out to once again ruffle Matt's hair but Collen called Shiro's attention by a drawl of his name. Shiro took his hand back and Matt mocked him for it.

"And you Matt, don't make faces! I'd like to see Shiro myself in one of your videos, but you can be a little pushy and persistent sometimes too." Colleen articulated.

Matt pouted at Shiro. Shiro smirked at Matt. Some things never change, people say.

Colleen chortled at their faces, and continued with the conversation. "Well Shiro, I was wondering about your next book. Have you written something for it at least? Any ideas?"

Shiro promptly ignored Matt's huffy comment as he nudged Shiro's arm with his elbow. "A few, yea. I've written a few drafts of what sort of haunting it could be, or if I want to go the informational route this time," Shiro interrupted the sentence with sigh, gestured with his hand and let it fall on his thigh, "I don't know. Have ideas in my head, none seems to inspire me enough to expand on at the moment."

"Oh, perhaps you should take a break like Matt said. You can stay over maybe? If your editor doesn't mind and won't pressure you, that is."

"Nah, Coran is pretty easy going, he actually likes to sit with me sometimes and mull over ideas. He actually scolds me whenever I work myself too much." Shiro chuckled at the thought of the friendly eccentric, he was as much a friend as he was an editor.

"Good, 'cause your last editor was an ass." Matt jeered while rolling his eyes.

Colleen couldn't agree any quicker, she was never fond of the man. "I'll have to agree with Matt. He was rude and a couple of occasions I honestly wanted to punch him on the face."

The comment made Shiro and Matt snigger. Colleen had a lean build, but pity should be taken upon anyone who dares to harm or offend her family. She was the matriarch of the house, afterall.

"Well, I assure you, Coran is one of the best guys I've met, pretty charismatic and inventive too. I should introduce you sometime. A fair warning though: He talks, _a lot._ He might talk your ear off if you let him."

"Sounds like I've found a gossip partner then." Colleen answered cheekily making both young men chuckle. "But I'd love to meet him. _Especially_ if he's someone who keeps _you_ in check." She looked pointedly at Shiro. It was both endearing and amusing when Colleen got all motherly over any of them, so Shiro responded with a bashful grin. He admitted to himself that he could be a pain on the neck sometimes.

It was barely seconds after when they heard the front door click open, closely followed by Sam's voice.

"We're back."

"We're in the living room." Colleen called back.

Soon, Sam and Pidge joined them. Although Sam looked thoughtful and Pidge more at ease than when they left, there was the trace of a heavy energy clinging to them.

Although it wasn't menacing it made Shiro shift uncomfortably.

Pidge squeezed in between Matt and Shiro on the sofa, while Sam sat on the love seat with Colleen.

"So how is Keith?" Colleen queried with concern only Shiro sensed and that betrayed her calm appearance.

Sam sighed as he tapped a folder he held. Shiro's eyes were instantly draw to it as Sam answered. "He was very shaken when we got there."

Barely had Sam finished talking when Pidge added her own answer. "Keith went through sleep paralysis again. Lance tried to help but accidentally scared him, I think."

"Was he having night terrors? And did you manage to calm him?" Matt sat down next to Pidge and began to rub her back.

Pidge nodded. "I'm not sure about night terrors as he barely talked. We made sure that he ate, and was sound asleep before we left."

As the others talked Shiro couldn't take his eyes off the folder. Fear, anxiety and sadness all mixed up into an enigma that lured his insight.

"Shiro?"

A small voice brought him back and he turned to his side to meet Pidge's concerned eyes. Shiro hadn't even realized when he started fiddling with his necklace again. He let it go and shook his head at her with the intent to ease her worry.

"Well." Colleen stood up and started to make her way to the kitchen, "How about we eat? The food must be starting to get cold."

"Let me help you to set the table, mom." Matt raised his hands above his head to stretch, and then stand to follow after his mother.

Pidge followed close behind and so was Shiro when Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Shiro, can I talk to you for a second?"

Shiro felt Sam's trepidation as soon as his hand was on his shoulder. Sensing that in Sam put Shiro at unease.

"Of course."

"First of all, I apologize that we couldn't make the session today and for all the fuss."

"You don't need to be sorry uncle Sam, no one was expecting this would happen. And you have a duty as a doctor to help Keith, it's impossible to hold it against you. I'm just glad he's doing better."

Sam hummed in agreement as he caressed his beard. "Right. Katie has told me about strange occurrences happening around Keith. She brought this to my attention first, and I admit that I've remained sceptical about such claims. Until recently."

"What's made you change your mind?" Shiro prompted.

Sam pushed back his glasses, then, as earnest as he could be, he held Shiro's gaze. "When we were explaining to him that we've been arranging for you two to meet, Keith _predicted_ that it would be you before we finished the sentence. Claims he saw it in a dream."

"Really?" Shiro drawled with wonder until something within reason occurred to him, "Are you sure about that? Pidge could've just mentioned me before, they've known each other for a while, correct?"

"Yes, most likely. Your name might have popped up here and there. But neither have Katie or myself have specified that _you specifically_ would be the one to help us out. Additionally, afterwards, Keith foretold that Katie's phone would ring before it did. Now, it may sound like silly details, but they are details nonetheless and in my experience, nothing should be overlooked."

To Shiro, it was a fair point. He hadn't argued out of skepticism though, he wanted to have an idea of what he'd be up against. "When will you have the next session?"

Sam took of his glasses to rub one of his eyes. "I told him to come by tomorrow. But that will depend on how well he'll be feeling tomorrow. Usually, when this happens, it drains out a lot of him and he gets ..." for a moment Sam appeared to be looking for a word to finish his sentence, "Sick."

"Oh really? Hm, okay, I'll come by tomorrow again then. Don't worry about it." Sam didn't need to express his relief for Shiro to notice it.

"Thank you Shiro. Now, on that note, there is something I'd like you to see. Naturally, I've already formed my own conclusions but, I'd like to know if you have more insight about it, and so that you share your thoughts." The folder was held out to Shiro but he didn't immediately take it. He wasn't expecting the sudden trepidation that formed in his chest. He could feel the shadows of negative emotions emanating from it, the most prominent of them being fear.

Cautious about what else he could feel, Shiro touched the folder with only his finger tips. As soon he did, Sam was quietly nodding to himself while observing Shiro.

The feelings Shiro picked up weren't overwhelming, but they were powerful. And again, the chill up his spine stood out more than blood boiling under his skin. Inhaling and exhaling, Shiro took the folder and flip it, considering if he should peek at it.

"Please take a look at them when you get home. I'd really like to hear your thoughts." Sam requested and patted him on the shoulder when Shiro eyed the folder.

"Uncle Sam," Shiro began, as the conversation was reminding him of what Sam told him on the phone the day before. "On the phone, yesterday, you said that Keith reminded you of me. How? Can you tell me more about him?"

The question was first met with some silence as Sam thought on what to respond. "Like I said before, up until recently I only had suspicions about Keith having abilities like yours, so that's what I meant. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Shiro parroted while raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Unfortunately, that's all I'll say for now. The rest will have to wait for when you personally meet him, and if all goes well from there of course."

"What a way to keep a man in suspense huh?" Shiro deadpanned, unamused as he was convinced that Sam was getting some enjoyment on keeping Shiro guessing. Thought that was reinforced when Sam laughed.

"All in due time Shiro. Remember what your grandfather used to say."

A short sigh, done exactly like when he was a kid. "Patience yields focus. But I don't think that applies in this case."

"The _patience_ part does." And with that, and double pat to Shiro's shoulder Sam won the argument, leaving Shiro to pout.

With the pout still on his face, Shiro blew his bangs and flipped the folder in his hand as temptation susurrated to him. He almost took a peek, but a little voice in him told him, reminded him, that when dealing with things that were emotionally charged it was best to approach wisely.

* * *

 **A/n:**

Yo! Here it is, chapter 3! I'm gonna be totally honest, I've been looking forward to posting this chapter. It really, REALLY gave me a run for my money, lol. But I pulled through, and in great part thanks to thequalityrunaway for helping me sort out my 'messes' and for beta reading.

Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please let me know your thoughts, I'd love to hear! I apologize for any errors, I usually write this on my phone and I'm sure we all know how autocorrect can screw us up, but feel free to point them out so I may fix 'em. Kudos and all that nice stuff is greatly appreciated too~~~br /

A'right, that's all from me for now, I hope you all brace yourselves for the next chapter ;)

Thank you very much for reading~~~


	4. Calling Shiro

**Chapter 4: Calling Shiro**

The cold wasn't always a bad thing. Often, it would make even the thinnest of blankets feel like a warm embrace; gentle hands soothing the chills on one's body.

Softness. Comfort. Silence. The preludes to one's slumber, uninterrupted, and leaving one's soul free to wander. And the smell of lavender, always a calming harbinger of fantasies and memories ...

Lilies. Their familiar strong aroma was the emissary of less pleasant thoughts, and they in turn were the ambassadors of sorrow.

A soft tune of woe was carried across towards sleeping ears. The moan was like a whisper in the wind. But it couldn't be, for Shiro knew that he was alone. It was the wail that followed which prompted him to open his eyes. Somewhere in his waking mind he tried to process the sound, but he was thrown off by the darkness in the room. Neither did he remember laying on a bed or going to sleep at all.

A sob pulled his attention again. Young, frail, that of a young child's.

"Katie?" He called out, confused by the use of the name since he rarely used his surrogate sister's given name. It had been years since he had last called her that. However, the more stranger thing was how he didn't recognize his own voice for a moment. It wasn't deep like it was supposed to be. He touched his throat as if he could blame it on having a cold, but he had no time to think about it when the door beckoned him to come. Something was calling him, voiceless but it squeezed his chest with a strong grip. It wasn't Katie, he realized.

A puppeteer controlling him from the shadows was a more apt description because, when did he get off the bed? And when had he walked to the door?

Shiro became wary then, he felt like he should've known what was going on, but felt disoriented, out of place; his puzzled look staring back at him from the opaque, stretched reflection on the silvery door knob. His face was rounder, eyes bigger and level with the handle, jet black hair tousled from getting out of a messy bed.

The grip in his chest was getting tighter beckoning him to reach out and open the door. So he did. He did even when he knew would be welcomed by shadows. He wasn't going to let fear conquer him, he had to find whatever was asking him to help.

"Hello?" His voice was so strange even to his own ears. But walking down such eerie hallway required focus or he could get lost to the dark.

The charm around his neck helped to keep him grounded, to gain more control over himself. He reached up to grab it. Standing by the room door he took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deep. One stroke, two strokes, the smooth texture of his quartz helped to quell the desperation wanting to control him.

Patience. Yields. Focus.

He released his breath, the smothering energy cleansed. Only then he could think straight, only then did his body actually listened to _his_ will and not that of an unseen force. He chose to move on his own terms, so he walked.

Silence crept steadily beside him, he swore that if he listened closer, he could actually hear the whisper of his name. It was the same voice as before: soft, small, vulnerable … frightened.

 _Shiro. Shiro help me. Please…_ It said.

Walls loomed over him like they hadn't for years, imposing fear and uncertainty. They stretched higher than any light could follow, wallowing in the pitch darkness above. But still he padded barefoot towards the white door at the end of the hall. It stood out like a phantom in the dark; sharp white, hazy like fog.

 _ **Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump**_

The pounding of his heart like thunderous drums in his ears. The more Shiro wanted to get to the door, to find that call for help, the more he felt like he was being weighed down. He was reluctant, he soon realized.

 _Help…_

Shiro was finally at the door, already reaching out as he approached door creaked open, no matter how hard Shiro tried to push, it wouldn't open any faster. There was something eerie coming through it, dark and unseen, it growled with the ferocity of a beast.

 _Shiro!_

A shrill sound broke through Shiro's ear. Desperation shook in his chest and sent a yelp out of his throat. The jolt he gave when he rose his head was strong enough to almost knock him off his chair.

His surroundings had changed into something much more familiar. He recognized the black desk in which his arms were perched, papers with drawings serving as the bedding. His laptop in front made fun of how his white fringe stuck out in several directions and how his eyeglasses were tilted on his face …

"Damn … I fell asleep ..." He told himself and the roughness of his voice was further proof of it. Shiro fixed his glasses and looked down at the open folder given to him by Sam, its contents splayed across his desk; papers with drawings on them.

Everything was drawn masterfully, there was an exceptional use of shadows in the rough grafite smudged into the paper. The skill put behind every detail had Shiro contemplating them in awe until he dozed off.

But there was more.

To any normal person, or untrained eye, they would be just that. Drawings. To people like Sam, they could be an outlet for a troubled individual. To Shiro, who could feel and see things beyond his five senses, they were expressions, feelings and thoughts put on paper, woven into each stroke and use of shade. These were drawings done by an unsettled mind, someone whose spirit was at unease. Shiro deduced that the ominous feelings in the drawings were what influenced the dream he had moments prior.

Mindful to not smear it, he ran one finger over the sketch of a disembodied, animalistic grin, peering from nothing but black. In another drawing, shadows hovered over a boy who sat on the floor with his face hidden into this knees and arms.

There was a pattern Shiro noticed. One had to squint, but blended perfectly into each drawing were abstract and shadowy, but they always seemed to be creeping towards the focus of the drawing …

Shiro got startled again when the shrill noise from before sounded again. It was his phone letting him know about a text message, and Shiro, annoyed, grumbled to himself to change the damned notification sound he currently had. He didn't recall putting said ringtone so it was probably Matt or Pidge's doing.

"Little twerps …" Shiro grumbled as he checked his phone. The message was from Pidge. When Shiro swiped to unlock the screen he realized that he had two other messages from her and a missed call from Sam.

The messages read:

 _Dad's calling you, just wanted to remind you not to be late.!_

 _Hey Shiro, are you aliiiiveeeee?,_ Several thinking emojis accompanying the message.

 _Heeeelllooooo? Do I need a ouija board to contact you now?,_ A scared emoji followed to emphasize the joke.

Shiro's lip curled up at one corner and he was about to reply when he noticed the hour. It was soon going to be three o'clock, and it would take him about twenty something minutes to get to the Holts' house. Shiro sent her a quick 'I'm on my way' then rushed to get ready.

At least the afternoon nap did him well, he felt much more rested.

* * *

When Shiro arrived to the Holts', Colleen was the one who greeted him on the door. Her trademark frown of 'you did something wrong, you should know better' offered as a 'hello'. Colleen questioned him by raising one of her eyebrows.

The sheepish chuckle Shiro let out was inevitable, "I know, I know, I'm a little late. I'm sorry … But, on the bright side, I took an afternoon nap and rested?"

Since she was always telling him, Matt and Pidge to get proper rest, Shiro hoped she would be appeased. Colleen hummed and as she stepped aside to let Shiro in.

"They're in the office. Best you go tell your uncle that you're here and why you're late." Colleen huffed, though Shiro knew that she wasn't really mad.

"Right. Thanks auntie, and sorry again." As they walked to the living room Shiro put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

"Don't tell me, go say it to your uncle." She patted him on the back then stepped out of the hug. Near them, Matt and Pidge's heads poked out of the sofa when they heard them.

"Will do." Shiro smiled and was going to greet the Holt siblings when Colleen told him something else.

"Oh! And we're planning on going out later for dinner if you'd like to join us."

"Okay. I will, thanks for letting me know." Shiro answered without question or stuttering.

"Yes ma'am, no ma'am, so so sorry ma'am." Matt mocked Shiro as he responded to the onslaught of orders he received from Colleen and how he responded to them. Pidge snorted and ducked behind the sofa again.

"Oh, shut up nerd. And hey Pidge, looks like using a Ouija board to contact me worked after all." Shiro joked, referencing the text he received from her earlier.

"Good, 'cause I was thinking if I should build a machine to make a wormhole to come get you."

"That, or maybe use an incantation to summon him." Matt complimented which caused them both to snigger some more."

"Der-her-her, very funny you two. Remind me to sign you up for a comedy show." Shiro made a face at them, and made sure he was being as sarcastic as he could.

"We'll be here all week." Pidge countered as she fist bumped Matt.

Shiro was going to rebuttal but Colleen saw it coming and therefore pushed Shiro out the sliding door that lead to the backyard. "Alright, that's enough. Off with you now, get."

"Matt and Pidge: One" Pidge smirked.

"Shiro: Zero." Matt grinned mischievously.

Shiro pouted.

"Unbelievable. Practically kicked out like a dog." Shiro grumbled to himself and promised himself he would get back at Matt and Pidge. But it was all in good fun, his relationship with them has always been full of playful banters and rare arguments that would be solved quickly.

Shiro huffed, and yet his mouth formed a smile as he walked through the yard. Sam's personal office was a room that was separate from the house. Given that he was already late Shiro jogged to get there quicker, and knocked on the door a couple of times once he was there.

"Come in!" Shiro heard Sam's voice say and he entered.

Entering Sam's office was like jumping into a cold pool belly first. The change in the ambient so quick from a light, normal feel, to a heaviness that could drain anyone of their energy. Shiro hardly realized when Sam greeted him as he was focused on the heart of such powerful energy; the young man Shiro has been looking forward to meet.

Keith.

No introduction was needed as the name came into Shiro's mind like the wind blowing upon waves. The sound of the name held a sense of strength when Shiro repeated it in his mind. Yet, there was something vulnerable in it.

When Shiro had come in, Keith had been sitting with his head down, his jet black hair curtaining most of his face save for a very prominent scar running from his cheekbone to the back of his jaw. His hands were on his thighs all relaxed but one hand was busy moving like it was counting invisible money and on that same wrist, Shiro noted a dark bruise. But as soon as Shiro entered, he jumped and his eyes immediately found Shiro's. Keith's eyes were heavy and dark, but they stuck on Shiro's gaze like a magnet.

The words fog and cold sprouted into his mind and they planted images of shadows seeping down from walls. Monster teeth that ravaged. Sinister Hands that latched on and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until every last sliver of breath was gone. Until there was nothing but silence coming out of one's throat…

"Takashi Shirogane."

Shiro's given name was spoken sharply, like when someone has been trying to call his attention but wasn't getting it. He jumped a bit in place, and when he looked to the side he saw Sam looking at him expectantly.

"I was asking you if you are alright? I called you, but you never replied. I was worried."

 _Fuck, you zoned out Shirogane. Pull yourself together._ A self reprimand while he apologized to Sam.

"Sorry about that uncle Sam. it's just that ..." he looked at Keith again and saw how he sat back on the sofa while his arms came up to fold in front of his chest. Shiro liked to think that he usually didn't have problems talking to people, whether he knew them or not. However, most people he's met did not have such a thick barrier that prevented Shiro getting a sense of them. "Your energy it … it's ... different."

Keith's arms didn't move from where they were. In fact, Shiro noticed the very subtle movement of when they got tighter just as Keith leaned on the arm of the small sofa. His brows furrowed in question.

Shiro felt his own furrowing in turn without him really meaning to. Something was building in the air. Caution, alert. Shiro felt that the energy around Keith was becoming threatened by his own.

"That was a strange way to start the conversation, my bad." It was becoming clear that Keith was uncomfortable with Shiro's presence. In hopes to remedy that, Shiro offered a calm smile as he apologized.

"Then it's polite that you introduce yourself first, _properly_ , Shiro. Or at least say 'hi'. Don't you think?" Sam interrupted with a deadpan tone.

Shiro cleared his throat to shake off the awkwardness, then stepped towards Keith to offer him a handshake. "Right. Hi, my name's Takashi Shirogane, but I go by Shiro."

A sudden apprehension dried Shiro's throat when Keith looked at his open hand. There was no doubt about it when Keith adjusted his position, pressing himself more into the sofa. Anxiety. Years of practice helped Shiro to keep the invading feeling at bay. He felt a helpful little pulse in the middle of his chest. Right where his quartz rested.

"Hi. I'm Keith." His voice was mellow, almost a mumble. But when Shiro listened close enough he realized there was a slight slur in his speech. Briefly he wondered if Keith was sick, his sense however got ahead of him tried getting a feel of Keith's energy. It was difficult to read, something was preventing him. But the sliver he felt was weak enough to alarm him.

"Nice to finally meet you Keith. I've been hearing quite a bit about you." When Keith didn't return the handshake it became clear to Shiro that Keith was uncomfortable. He opted to wave at Keith instead, while also throwing in a friendly smile.

"Okay, now that you've remembered your manners Shiro, please, take a seat. I'm almost done with these notes." Sam gestured to the room with his pen, then brought to his notepad once again to scribble.

Passively scolded for a second time that day Shiro's shoulders, as well as the corner of his lips slumped a bit. He suddenly felt a subtle shift in Keith's energy, as well as he heard a very small huff. He turned his head just in time to catch Keith hiding a little smile, that was surely at his expanse, into his hand. Even a stranger was having a laugh out of him and that's when Shiro simply accepted that everyone was against him that day. He resigned, and was going to sit in the empty space next to Keith. The latter's little smirk disappeared as his head turned sharply, stopping Shiro in his tracks.

Both young men looked at the empty space, then back at each other, eyes meeting head on once again. An uneasy feeling turned in Shiro's stomach and he could tell that feeling wasn't his own. Keith turned his alarmed gaze away shortly afterwards.

So apparently Keith wasn't comfortable sharing such a small sofa with a stranger. Shiro conceded and stepped back.

"Uncle Sam, I'm going to borrow your desk chair."

Sam rose an eyebrow, first looking at Shiro, the empty spot on the sofa, then at Keith who looked like a mixture of embarrassed and tense.

"Oh. Sure Shiro, go ahead."

Shiro muttered his thanks and proceeded to bring over the chair and sit. Keith was watching him discreetly. The curiosity stuck out like a sore thumb despite Keith's efforts of being subtle on his body language. However the relief and the confusion Shiro sensed in him where the giveaways. Shiro wondered if Keith knew Shiro was psychic, if Sam told him beforehand or not. And if so, did Keith believe in any of it.

"Okay, so, Shiro, Keith," Sam addressed looking at each one respectively, "I asked Shiro to join us today is because he has experienced many of the same phenomenon as you, Keith. Dreams, knowing things before they happen … seeing things that aren't there."

Shiro had been keeping his eyes on Sam as he talked. Towards the end of the sentence, a strong feeling was thrown at him like a javelin. Unexpected and with raw piercing power. It came from Keith, as the latter looked at him. All of a sudden Keith's weak energy became a little more prominent, while Keith himself curled hugged himself closer. Like he was making himself smaller under Shiro's presence. Keith was wary.

Shiro exchanged a very brief look with him before returning the unaware Doctor that kept explaining what his intentions were, "It's needless to say that I have no first hand experience. I merely offered the best supportive care I could. So that's why you, Shiro, I would like for you, to give you, Keith, some advice on how to cope and channel this sixth sense of yours. If you'd let him, of course."

"Sixth sense?" Keith spoke, holding Sam's look for a couple of seconds as if making sure he heard right.

Sam leaned his head and tapped his pen on the top of the notepad two times, "Yes Keith. We talked about this yesterday?"

Keith scoffed moving like he was going to sit up, but he remained in the same slumped position. He was barely moving more than he needed to. "I told you. Those things that I feel, what I see … it has to be side effects from the pills and the fact that there's something wrong with my head. And even if it wasn't, how could I even know that you're genuine?" The spite in Keith's tone could be tasted, bitter and stinging.

Sam looked at Shiro over his glasses like a 'you see?' And although Keith sounded rude, neither Sam or Shiro said anything against the young man's incredulity. Sam, because he knew Keith enough to know how to handle him. Shiro, because he was used to being met with incredulity by most people he met.

Shiro remained calm, trying to give off gentle vibes to soothe the tempestuous sea that was Keith's energy. In his mind he saw said energy swirling in a frenzy, then recoiling like a serpent ready to strike; not wanting to be found, feeling threatened by another being. Yet it was too big to hide, and was forced to lay out vulnerable.

To some level Shiro could relate. "If only I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that."

At that Keith looked at Shiro but without shifting too much from his position. He was very apologetic and humble, "Right. Sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude. It's ..."

"You don't trust your senses." Shiro finished for him after he saw how Keith's Adam's Apple bobbed a few times.

Keith's frown returned, though softer and more contemplative, the sudden rush of angry energy became weak again. It had been like a solar flare: intense and all consuming one second, then gone the next drained out of energy. And the ideas in the man's mind so intense that Shiro felt like he could touch them.

"Why should I? Like I said, my head is not straight. The pills, I drink… make me see things." Though it looked like Keith offered that as a conclusion, there was tiredness in his undertone. The kind of words that sounded like they were beaten into his head and he was simply repeating them.

Shiro hummed, and he leaned forward to try get Keith to look at him. But he didn't. What Shiro said next, he tried to sound as less accusatory as possible, "You don't need to apologize Keith. But, do you really think that's true? Even when you see things before they happen, or when you hear things before they're said?"

The space between them squeezed,Shiro felt like something was pushing him away and he met it with no resistance. He didn't want to present himself as a threat and it was becoming clear to Shiro that he would have to put his patience into practice.

Shiro was going to tell Keith something, yet the words completely escaped his mind, drifting like a faraway echo. His eyes were focused however, they kept looking at the back of Keith's head while he kept picturing in his mind Keith looking at him.

In a sudden moment, Keith turned his head and looked at him. Right into his eyes. Just like Shiro was envisioning.

Shiro didn't recall ever feeling anything like it. Although it was brief like a single heartbeat, it spellbound Shiro. That's when he noticed a little pattern: Their eyes kept finding each other. It wasn't just a simple exchange either, it was a stare that was supposed to be deep. That look beckoned, it wanted to say more yet it shook Shiro.

Shiro has interacted with many psychics before, but none of their energies, nor their stare were as impactful as Keith's was …

Sam cleared his throat and to Shiro it felt like when glass was broken.

"Everything alright Shiro?" Sam asked, concern lacing his tone, but intrigue sculpting his expression.

Keith was quick to look out the window, frowning, and rubbing his knuckle yet again.

"Uh yes. Yes! I was just thinking about something and for a moment I forgot what I was going to say." Within his own head, Shiro questioned himself what could have just happened, the word strange didn't even begin to describe it. But he would have to ponder it later as he had to focus his attention on helping Keith.

"Mm. Okay, well, do you remember?" Sam gave Shiro a look over his glasses while his brows furrowed. The look that said Sam was worried but he knew something else was going on, that Shiro was hiding something.

Not that Shiro expected any less from brilliant man and the person who raised him. Thus, Shiro expected the questioning that was bound to come at some point.

"Yes, I do remember," Shiro turned to Keith again, "What I wanted to say, Keith, is that, It can be scary to not have anyone else understand. I was lucky, I had Sam and Colleen, they never told me I was wrong when I saw these things, they just wanted to understand. I'd like to offer you the same, and so would they, if you'd like us to?"

Keith's look was entirely distrustful. "You don't even know me."

Shiro smiled kindly, "Do I have to? I'm sure that Sam didn't know you either when he decided to help you. Nor did Pidge when she decided to be your friend." Shiro could tell that his words were clicking even when Keith glared at the arm-rest, with a lack of a counter argument continued. "They were just kind people, who want to help. And I'd like to help you too. If you'll allow me, of course."

Shiro noticed that Keith's glare was softening into curious rather than hostile. But there was still a layer of nervousness that stopped him. "I know that Doctor Holt trusts you, and Pidge does too. But how can _I_ trust you? How do I know you can really help me, and not just setting me up? _Every_ time that I've been offered 'help' I-" The incomplete sentence was finalized by a very long, deep breath that even caused Keith to close his eyes for a few seconds. Keith shook his head and left the sentence unfinished.

Sam watched in contemplative silence, carefully watching the two of them interact. Shiro could feel his eyes on them, but he was focused on how he was going to answer Keith. He looked at nothing in particular as he nodded softly to himself a couple of times.

From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw Sam wincing, thinking of a way to ease the tension. But Shiro got ahead of him and had an idea, "Okay Keith, mind if I make a little test?"

He got Keith's curiosity again, the latter tilting his head to indicate Shiro he had his attention. Even then his tone a bit biting when he asked, "Test what?"

Shiro smirked and took off his eyeglasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt. "I can understand your mistrust Keith and you have all the right to feel that way." Shiro lifted his glasses up to check for any smudges. Once deemed clean enough he put them back on and calmly looked directly at Keith. "So, test me."

Keith squinted his eyes, he was definitely thinking about it. Not long passed before he reached to the side of the sofa and from a book bag he took out a sketch pad. Keith took out the sketch pad in a subtle but very intentional way of implying what Shiro's test would be.

"Psychics are supposed to be able to see what's in one's mind correct?"

Shiro nodded, "You draw, I guess. I'll need to touch your pencil or something though. I can't mind read."

Keith made a noise that sounded like he was being skeptical, but he opened his sketchbook nonetheless. Shiro accepted Keith's challenge. Closing his eyes he sat back, taking a deep breath Shiro chose one thing to focus on so that his thoughts wouldn't become errant. He thought on black leather seats, the smell of cologne and pine that's been impregnated into every corner. And the 'adorkable' nickname he gave to his beloved Jeep. Just when his mind was calm he heard the moment Keith's pencil began to scratch the paper, his hearing sense attuned to the paused movements. Until suddenly they stopped.

That was the moment Shiro felt something. If he were to describe it, it was like the back of a hand brushed against his mind. He opened his eyes just as Keith's hand moved again, it's movements going from careful to fluid and quick. The strangest thing was that Keith's eyes weren't on the paper at all. His eyes were on Shiro, but they were unfocused, like Keith wasn't entirely there at all.

"Keith?" Concerned, Sam leaned forward in his seat while attempting to reach out and touch Keith.

Shiro stopped him with a hand gesture. "Wait a moment. Let him, he's in a trance. I want to see what he does."

Sam seemed reluctant but he lowered his hand, yet he didn't lean back in his chair, his concerned look still on Keith.

"Have you ever seen him doing this?" Shiro asked Sam.

"I don't believe so. He always gets focused when he draws, but I've never seen him like this."

They suddenly heard Keith snicker, amused. Even when he was still in the trance he mumbled, "Black. You named your car?"

"He saw it …" Shiro mumbled caught a little by surprise that Keith accurately gave one description of his car, just when he had been thinking about it moments prior.

Sam heard Keith too, his worried look became mixed with awe. "Amazing. How does he know that?"

Shiro was grappling with his own thoughts. He didn't get the chance to form an explanation since the trance Keith was in ended as quickly and suddenly as it had started.

Keith blinked a couple of times then shook his head. While rubbing his eyes he grumbled, "Fucking pills … Sorry I think that I dozed off for a moment there."

With the focus returned to his eyes Keith looked down at his lap. Whatever he drew on that paper made him freeze, eyes open in shock and confusion, and a question hanging on his lips. He thought on it hard for a couple of seconds then looked at Sam and Shiro.

"I … did I …did I do this?" Keith was at a loss for any explanation, his mouth moving uselessly to add more to that sentence. He turned the sketchbook around to show the light sketch of a Jeep in side view, and on the bottom left corner was the sketch of a license plate.

"That's Shiro's car! How can you- you haven't seen Black" Sam observed while caressing his beard.

"Black? "

"Yes. You said that too Keith. You went into a trance of sorts and started drawing." Sam gently informed him.

Shiro felt the poor young man's confusion and sudden fear so what Keith did next didn't come as a surprise to him.

Keith shoved his sketchbook away, pencil and all, "It's just a car. Could be anybody's car."

"Even when you didn't intend on drawing that? When you were supposed to be testing Shiro?" Sam pointed out, once again being gentle with the distraught young man.

Keith shook his head as Sam talked to him, and muttered, "No. It can't … It just can't …"

"Keith. May I show you something?" Shiro interrupted speaking as calmly as Sam was. He took out his phone and passed to Keith so that he could see a back view of 'Black.'

Shiro watched as Keith reluctantly compared the cars, and the license plates that were exactly the same. Keith chew the inside of his cheek and started shaking his head sharply.

"No. No, no, no. Nope." Keith's voice trembled. He handed the phone back to Shiro like it would burn him if he held it any longer. Thereupon he stood up abruptly to stand by the window while caressing his temples. "At this point, I don't _care_ what this is .. I just want it to _stop._ "

The last word in the sentence almost sounded like a sob. But even before Keith talked in such a begging tone, Shiro sensed that Keith was at his limit. Both emotional, mental and perhaps even physical. He felt like he has pushed Keith and felt guilty because of it. Nevertheless, it was necessary. If he was to help Keith, he needed Keith to start acknowledging that what was happening to him wasn't just in his head, as he claimed.

"I'm sorry for troubling you Keith." He apologized humbly as he put his phone away. Keith kept staring out the window without saying anything. Shiro didn't blame him. Turning to Sam he said, "I think that's enough for today uncle Sam."

Sam immediately understood, nodding as he put his pad on the table and stood up. "I agree. Perhaps having this conversation right after a therapy session might have been a mistake. Keith?"

Keith crossed his arms over his chest and slightly turned his head towards Sam without looking at him.

"I'm sorry if I put too much on you today. Take a minute or two to calm down and then we'll head over to the main house."

Keith curled a little into himself and nodded softly.

"Alright." Sam gathered his things from the table and as he walked to his desk he told Shiro, "We'll be going out for dinner later, you're welcomed to join us."

"Yea. Auntie told me, thanks for the invitation. I'll be more than glad to join you."

"Great! You're welcomed to join us too Keith. Though I think Katie said something about dragging you along anyways." Sam chuckled as he organized his desk a little.

Keith huffed almost inaudibly and though there was a little bit of an edge in his tone, he sounded a little calmer. "I don't have much choice there. She's my ride anyways."

"Ah, right. Well, we'll be going somewhere calm so don't worry."

Keith nodded again, "Thanks." He moved away from the window picking up his messenger bag as he went. He put it on and after picking up his discarded sketchbook he shoved into the bag, not even bothering to close the book. "I'm good, we can go. Don't want to keep them waiting too long." Keith gave them no chance to refute as he walked out.

Sam walked to Shiro and gave him a worried look.

"Heisa little calmer." Shiro reassured Sam, but the latter looked unsure and guilt ridden.

"We're going to have to adjust his therapy sessions if you're going to be working with us. But we'll plan that tomorrow perhaps, if we're both available."

Shiro nodded in agreement as he opened the door for Sam.

In the main house Matt and Pidge were on the living room, a commercials playing on the tv that neither sibling was paying attention to. Matt leaning against Pidge's arm while scrolling through his phone, while she was lazily doodling on her notebook, one leg crossed on top of the other to support the big cushion she was using as a makeshift table.

Keith made a beeline towards Pidge and stood next to her. Shiro in contrast took the opportunity to sneak up on Matt and take his phone.

"Hey! Shiro, give that back!" Matt whined with some annoyance in his tone.

"Oh, you guys done?" Pidge smiled at Keith, then tilted her head backwards to look up at Sam who stood behind the sofa.

"Yes, we are. Where's your mother?"

"She's getting ready. How was the session?" Pidge inquired.

It was a pretty lengthy session. But we'll work on making them a little more easier."

Shiro was twirling Matt's phone in his hand as the latter was doing a half hearted attempt at reaching it. Most likely because he was too comfortable in his position to move.

"Hopefully the next one will be better. This one wasn't bad, I hope?" Shiro smiled kindly while looking at Keith. He sincerely hoped that with what happened he hadn't made Keith uncomfortable in any way.

Keith didn't hold Shiro's gaze for long, his eyes darting to the ground as he nodded while mumbled, "No. It wasn't," which made him sound unsure of his own answer. He was hovering near Pidge, looking like he wanted to join her yet seemed unsure of how to go about it. Shiro's heart dipped when he picked up on the need for comfort Keith had.

"You sure man? You don't sound so convinced. I know Shiro can look intimidating, but trust me, he's a big softie." Pidge told Keith reaching her hand out in welcome. An invitation Keith didn't hesitate to take, shuffling over, not touching, but Shiro felt the relief that washed in Keith's chest. Keith sat on the small space Pidge made for him when she scooted. It caused a bit of grumbling from her older brother, as it ruined his comfort, but she ignored it.

"Shame on you Shiro! Stop intimidating poor Keith!" Matt scolded, feigning offense as he swiped his phone back with fake attitude.

"I didn't do anything!" Shiro quickly defended while ruffling Matt's hair. But seeing as Keith was acting wary, and had talked like he was unsure, it wouldn't hurt to double check. So he looked at Keith again. "At least, I don't think I did? Hopefully?"

"Yes. I'm sure, I just …" Keith briefly paused to look at Shiro in the eye like he was considering what to say. "Need to get used to it. Remember I'm not good with strangers." Keith lowered his gaze to Pidge's notebook and he smiled, a subtle huff escaping his mouth when he saw the doodle Pidge did: A caricature of herself wearing swirly glasses.

The light expression really made a difference in Keith's face, Shiro observed. It was so pleasant to look at that Shiro felt himself smiling along.

"Okay! Now that you guys have met, and are going to become friends, Keith! I was talking to Matt and I got homework for you!" Pidge reached over to grab a book that was on top of the coffee table. She handed it to Keith as she said, "I don't know why I didn't think about this before. But you should really give a read."

Shiro craned his neck to see what book was Keith taking into his hands. It took merely a second for him to recognize the cover.

"Oh, that's the first book Shiro wrote. How come I didn't think of that either." Sam commented gently hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand.

Pidge's intention was to help Keith, but Shiro felt like it was narcissistic in a way. The last thing he wanted was to give off that impression. And by the way Keith was skeptical looking between the book and him, Shiro worried that that was already the case.

"Oh, Keith, you don't have to read it if you don't want to." As soon as Shiro said that, the three Holts looked at him with perplexed, questioning frowns. Even Keith was looking at him strangely.

"Why not Shiro? I thought that the reason you wrote it was to help everyone understand extrasensorial people."

"Well, yea, but …" Shiro trailed off as he thought how would he explain to them that for some reason he was feeling like he really wanted to give Keith a very good impression. More so then he would with any other stranger. But he failed to find the words.

So Matt intervened, first talking to Shiro and then to Keith. "But nothing! Keith, don't listen to him. Read it, it's good."

The intention Shiro had when first wrote that book was so he could help other people like him understand themselves. Of course it would make sense to suggest Keith reading his book…

"Oh! And not only that," Pidge took the book from Keith's hands and she raised it enough to hide half of her devilish grin, "Shiro, you should also definitely sign it while we're at it."

As if he didn't feel like they were being pushy enough, Pidge just _had_ to ask him for an autograph too. Shiro was going to question her when Keith took the words right out of his mouth.

"Why?"

Pidge looked at him like if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "To rub it in Lance's face, duh! Tell me that you _don't_ want to see his reaction."

The small smile Keith cracked was nearly instantaneous. Pidge wiggled her eyebrows at him and Keith muttered, "When you put it that way …"

"So. Shiro?" Pidge extended the book towards Shiro in offering, her smirk deviously smug.

Shiro didn't know Lance properly and he already felt sorry for the guy. But not enough not to cave in to Pidge's schemes of mischief. He wasn't sure why, but he almost always fell into them easily. Him accepting the book didn't make Matt happy however.

"Aw come on Shiro! You're always doing stuff for Pidgey here! When are you going to do me a favor and be in my videos!" He whined and pouted like the kid he sometimes was.

"'Cause, _Matt_ , one: I'm little sis,and big bros have to do as I wish. Two: I'm the fav. And three: I'm not a Pokemon! So don't call me 'Pidgey'!"

"You are as small as a Pidgey and it's always been one of your favorite Pokemon and you know it." Matt countered while squishing her cheeks.

Sam rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with Shiro whilst taking a pen from the top pocket of his blazer. Shiro smiled as he took the offered pen. When he was about to start scribbling, his eyes caught Keith watching them all interact. The small smile was still there, but Shiro could sense the forlorn rooted deep in Keith; that he wanted to be part of the conversation but just wouldn't dare intrude. In turn, Shiro felt sad for him but he remained casual and engaged in the banter. There was a possibility that it could encourage Keith.

"Hummmm, gee, I don't know Pidge, I'll have to agree with Matt on the Pidgey thing. Plus it's cute. And you Matt, I don't know why are you complaining. Do I need to remind you of who gets you exclusive content for your videos?"

No further argument, and the admittance of defeat in the form of a pout from Matt. Shiro smirked to himself while handing the book over to Pidge, who then blew a raspberry at her brother. Matt quickly teased back by tickling her, but Pidge squirmed away before Matt could tickle her too much.

"Alright, that's enough you three. What will Keith here think of you, acting like children?" Calm and with the patience of a saint, Sam intervened.

"Pfft, it's not like he's not used to it dad. We live with _Lance_ afterall." Pidge dismissed, nonchalantly handing the book to Keith.

* * *

 **A/n:** At long last, the anticipated meeting happened! Writing Keith and Shiro's first encounter was tricky but in the end I had lots of fun. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this chapter! And please, I'd love to know if you are enjoying this story so far! What has been your favorite part in this or previous chapters. Regardless, I thank you all for dedicating a moment of your time to read, comment, and/or leave kudos on this work. It really means a lot and gets me all riled up!

And about the Pokemon joke, It was all thanks to me playing Pokemon Let's Go Eevee and I captured a female Pidgey... I tend to name my Pokemon after characters I like and I realized that 'Pidge' forms part of all three Pokemon in that evolution chain: Pidgey, Pidgeotto, Pidgeot. And thus I had an epiphany.

Special thanks to thequalityrunaway for putting up with my writing messes! And to Hazel for helping me out as well~~

Alrigthy fellow Sheithers (Sheithens?) until the next chapter! And I hope you all have a lovely day/afternoon/evening~~~~


	5. The Case of Keith Kogane

**Chapter 5: The Case of Keith Kogane**

It was a morning like any other: Keith's eyes were open at the crack of dawn. Although, like the majority of his nights, that was mostly due because he could barely sleep at all. The day before, the day of his encounter with Shiro, he had gone to bed restless despite being so bone tired. The thought of what manner of terrors would await him in his sleep kept him awake. It was an awful thing to feel like he wasn't safe in his own room, in his own space. Where walls were pitch black and imposing, like his very fears just hounded him in the dark. Lurking and waiting to strike the moment Keith let himself show weakness and succumb to his exhaustion.

It seemed that after seeing Shiro those feelings were doubled. Keith wouldn't allow the torment . Ergo, lay awake was what he did. While doing so, he unintentionally entertained the thought of how everyone else was cosily tucked into their beds, probably off dreaming of nice things or of bizarre situations that would make for an interesting story. It was an envious thought to have. Oh, how he wished he could be like everyone else, even if it was to have _one_ night with good dreams or none at all ...

Yet for all of that, he would never wish for anyone to be in his place. Keith was confident that he wasn't lying when he said that he'd absolutely hate to see anyone in his position. Sleep paralysis was one of the worst things he's had to endure, he'd rather have night terrors or withstand the exhaustion of a sleepless night. At least in either occasion he could move or _do something._

But well, at least last night he hadn't had to worry about that. He stole a look at the digital clock on his night table: Six o'clock in the morning.

He sighed and told himself, _Just a little more Keith. You'll make it._

Keith wasn't so sure of his own encouragement but he tried anyways. Though not sure exactly why, he thought that maybe changing his current position would help. Therefore he shifted from his back onto his left side which put his back to the entirety of his room. Not a second later, he felt desperation creeping up his back and for a moment he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. It was like when he knew there was someone standing behind him, a set of eyes staring down at his vulnerable position even though he was alone. The hairs on his neck stood to end and the sensation made him shift onto his right side immediately.

He needed to make sure it was only him in his room. When relief settled in, Keith's eyes landed on his left wrist. The bruise he got just about a day ago in his last sleep paralysis and consequential panic attack, still marred his skin. If anything, it has only become darker and taken an uncanny shape; it surrounded almost all of his wrist, almost like a hand gripped him. And that was exactly what he had felt that night, when the terrible wheezes of 'The Burned Lady' made him breathe nothing but fear and the appearance of 'The Burned Man' shook him to his core.

 _But they weren't real … They can't be …_

Doubt followed that statement as it reminded Keith of his meeting with Shiro the day prior, and how real the feelings during the sleep paralysis felt. And then there was that other thing …

Keith brought his right hand into view and examined the lines of his palm, how his slender fingers lightly twitched. He wondered if the things he felt when he touched others were all in his head as well … It happened when he touched certain objects too, he could see and feel things …

 _I wonder if …_

Keith wasn't sure if he wanted to know what he would see if he touched the bruise, it was already on his skin so he must've seen something by now. He could only find out if he touched it … he let his fingertips gently ghost over the black shape.

Nothing.

For all his fear, there was also the dissatisfaction that made him a little bolder and grip his own wrist. Why couldn't he just stop imagining things that weren't there; what was so wrong with his mind that it wouldn't stop making things up when he touched certain things. Or why did he have strange dreams or strange feelings that he wished he could just grow out of. And then there was also the instances in which his guesses were uncannily accurate, like when he guessed Shiro's license plate.

Keith frowned to himself as he looked for a self explanation to all of that: Could _be a coincidence… I must be very good at reading people I suppose. Not that that has helped me much …_

 _And the license plate?_ The little voice in his head supplied, that tiny annoying, voice that always questioned his own reasoning. A voice he so willfully tried very hard to ignore.

He was sick, nothing more to it.

And yet, that little defiant part felt the need for more confirmation. He wondered why, if the diagnosis of his mental state was as clear as day. But the defiance wouldn't quiet down unless he satisfied the curiosity. So he pressed his bruise tighter. It hurt but there was nothing further. So no. The Burned People weren't real, and he guessed that whatever weird 'sensitivity' he had was also in his head. Disappointment sprouted in his chest to his own surprise.

Maybe it had something to do with what happened in the session with Shiro. Keith never admitted out loud that there had been a part of him that had been hopeful; That part of him that didn't stop praying for someone to not only listen, but also understand. And although Shiro gave him that little spark of hope, Keith wasn't sure how to take his presence.

For reasons Keith couldn't explain, as much as he tried to think about it, his encounter with Shiro left him exhausted, yet at the same time restless. The encounter had been so strange and unlike anything he's ever experienced. His time with Sam has already chipped away the wall Keith built around himself, but it was nothing but mere cracks on the surface. On the other hand just the mere action of talking with Shiro was like something had been impaled through his defences.

Shiro was an intriguing person, Keith had to admit to himself. Someone from whom he couldn't get a proper first impression. If Keith would want to describe him it would be hard, with words at least. Because every word Keith thought of suddenly felt wrong. Like it didn't quite capture what he felt.

Pondering on his bed hasn't helped so far, so there was no use in trying to do so any longer. It was long since made clear that he wouldn't get anymore sleep anyways so, there was no point in staying in bed.

The first weak rays of morning that filtered through his window were what finally convinced him. Resigned he stood, making sure that he took his black gloves with him. And made way to the bathroom before Lance could wake up and hog it for himself for about an hour. Pidge was lucky that her room had the en-suite bathroom and she didn't have to partake in the 'who gets to use the bathroom first' disputes. Though she was kind enough to let Hunk or Keith use her en-suite whenever Lance took way too long. But if Keith was honest with himself those simple interactions helped him feel so much more normal; he was grateful that they helped him forget that he was a mess on two legs. Even if it was for just a moment.

As part of routine, first, Keith got in the shower. When he went to turn the tap his hand hovered just a few inches away from the shiny metal surface. He briefly wanted to get his gloves and put them on.

 _Remember: It's all in your head Keith. You need to fight it. You can do this._

A deep breath and a steeling of nerves, and Keith grabbed the handle to get the water going. And that was exactly the only thing that happened: water flowing cold as ice to jolt any remnants of sleep out of him.

After a little while he turned it as hot as he could handle, so that he could relax and prepare himself for the day. He went to his room and got in his uniform, which he was glad it was a fairly simple attire and covered most of his body.

The black color helped with retaining heat and protect him from the cold he often felt. The cargo pants were just a bit too big, but he didn't mind as the thick layer made him feel protected. The boots simply looked cool. The t-shirt however was a bit more of a problem. While the material was soft and very comfortable, it had short sleeves and most of his arms were exposed to the world; to the touch of others around him, to the cold. But luckily he had his favorite red and black jacket, the one he never left the house, or not even his room without. Keith put it on and zipped it up to just below his chest, his fingers still gripping the zipper while his eyes were fixed on the mirror; specifically, to the insignia on his shirt that was to him a definition of irony.

'Daibazaal City Fire Department,' embroided in stark white letters in a semicircle over and under the fire department's insignia. As Keith stared at it, the word STAFF that was imprinted on the back of his shirt felt heavy across his shoulders. Many times he has questioned why was he wearing that, the memory it could produce brought him pain. But it was like the insignia was burned into his very chest, a heavy burden that he, and only he decided to put on his own shoulders …

It was exactly what he would expect of himself as the mess that he was, taking irony and contradiction to the next level. He scoffed softly and zipped the jacket the rest of the way, he shoved his gloves in a pocket for the time being and went to the kitchen.

There, Keith proceeded with his routine and ran the coffee machine, the only thing he could do for breakfast as the kitchen was Hunk's territory. And _nobody_ messed with _his_ kitchen. It was a golden rule that everybody in the apartment respected without any complaints.

While he waited for the coffee to brew, and for the others to arise lured by its smell, Keith sat quietly in the dining room table. In the lack of activity his thoughts were being snatched once again by the memories of his encounter with Shiro. It was one of those moments in which something kept proding, naggingly so, yet Keith couldn't put his finger on as to why.

When words failed to properly describe what it was, Keith turned to his drawing skills to break the dam that held back his thoughts. Keith's right hand was lazily etching thoughtless shapes onto the sketchpad. But he still paid some attention to his surroundings. He could already hear the subtle signs that his friends and fellow housemates were up and awake. Lance was complaining because Hunk managed to snag the bathroom first, and Keith didn't need to see to know that Hunk was mocking Lance for it behind that door. Pidge came from down the hall, passed the dining room, and went into the kitchen while looking a little grumpy.

Until she smelled and saw the coffee ready to drink. Keith felt as if her happiness shifted the very air around them and Keith wasn't able to stop the smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, bless you Keith. You are _the best_ roommate/friend a girl could ask for." She exclaimed with relief as she helped herself to a cup of the caffeinated drink.

Despite the somber state Keith was in, Pidge's compliment made him feel good, it even perked him up a bit. That light-heartedness lead to him cease the opportunity to tease her a little. He smirked, "Even after Hunk?"

Pidge's cup stopped midway from reaching her lips and she blinked owlishly at Keith. It took her a few seconds before she blushed, very lightly, but quickly turned smug.

"Don't push it hotshot. But you _do_ come as a close second. But only by this much." She pinched her pointer finger and thumb together. Her tone was jovial and playful.

Keith smiled while scoffing and shaking his head. Pidge wiggled her eyebrows at him earning her another amused scoff from Keith before he returned to drawing. He heard her slurp and hum in approval.

"Mmm, I don't know what you do, but somehow your coffee tastes the best." Pidge exhaled happily and took another long sip.

"Pft, I don't do anything special. I just stick it into the coffee maker?" Keith half smiled and raised an eyebrow at her.

Pidge dismissed him with a vague gesture of her hand as she drank. After she swallowed she changed the subject. She approached the table and leaned close to Keith so what she said was only for the two of them to hear, "Oh yea! By the way, where's the book?"

Keith stopped drawing immediately after the question and gave a thought. "Hm? What book?"

Pidge rolled her eyes and took a seat in front of him. She looked unamused, yet unsurprised and she deadpanned, "Really? You _forgot_? The book Shiro gave you dumb-dumb."

"Oh," Keith said dumbly as he didn't even remember he had that book. He felt pretty embarrassed for not remembering something that happened only the day before. "It's still in my bag … I think."

The straight line that were Pidge's lips stretched out from ear to ear wide enough to reveal a bit if teeth. "Hehe, Imma go get it! Can't wait to see the look in Lance's face!" she put her mug on the table and stood, but before she ran off she looked at Keith, "May I?"

While smiling slightly, Keith did a vague gesture with his hand. Next thing he heard were Pidge's feet pattering away towards his room. The young woman ducked so as not to crash into Hunk's arm as he was coming down the hall. Although Pidge had ducked mostly out of instinct since Hunk was much taller than her, and he had already lifted his arm before Pidge even ran past.

As Hunk walked past the table he greeted Keith through a loud yawn, "'Morning Keith. You're being the early bird of the house, as usual."

Keith acknowledged him with a brief half smile and then returned to his drawing.

"Early bird gets the worm." Though Keith only said that to be snarky. There was really no 'worm' for Keith; there was nothing beneficial in having a sleepless night and being tormented by things he couldn't control.

"Hm, yea, so they say." Hunk conceded while he yawned again and stretched his arms. When he was done his eyes landed on Keith again. This time, he squinted his eyes as if he was taking a closer look at his friend.

"Whooaa, did you sleep well? You look like you're about to pass out, or have a very rough day, man." And honestly Keith felt as tired as Hunk described.

Keith didn't want him or the others throwing a fuss or worrying like they had the other day. Therefore Keith tried to be dismissive, but also wasn't rude about it.

"I'll manage." Keith used his most solemn tone.

Hunk's squinted further and his lips pursed, the little sound he made let Keith know that he wasn't buying it. Before Keith could kindly dismiss him again, Pidge came trotting back with Shiro's book in hand. When she saw Hunk she greeted him.

"Oh, good morning Hunk!" She chirped like if she hadn't ran past the guy a mere minutes ago.

Keith was thanking the universe for her though, as her appearance took Hunk's attention away from him.

"'Morning Pidge. And you literally ran by me a few moments ago, and _now_ you say 'good morning'?"

"Hey, better late than never! Besides, I was on a mission." Face etched with smugness, she brought up the book in front of her chin, and she opened it on the front page, where Shiro signed it.

"Psychics, Mediums and Psychology: the differences and signs, by Takashi Shiro-whoa, you got him to sign it? I mean, not that that would be difficult. But why would you have it signed?"

"Well, first, this copy is for Keith. Second, I asked Shiro to sign it just to tease Lance."

"Of course you did." Hunk said acting like he wasn't surprised, though his smirk betrayed him and said that he wanted to see Lance's reaction too.

With Pidge and Hunk together, Keith felt sorry for Lance. Sometimes. The pair could be a menace when they wanted to. And as the two talked Keith made no comment, simply shook his head and continued to draw.

"So, changing the subject, what will you make us for breakfast today sunshine?" Pidge completed the question by putting her pointer finger under Hunk's chin to bring him down for a kiss on the cheek.

Hunk smiled a bit shyly at the affection and answered while rubbing the side of his neck, while he also gave her a knowing look. "Mmmmm… I'm really feeling the french toast."

"With scrambled eggs? And bacon?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Hunk grinned and cracked his fingers just before getting to work. Keith's own stomach gave a little groan at the menu option. He was particularly fond of Hunk's french toasts.

"Good morning everybody." Came Lance's voice suddenly and when everyone looked he flashed pearly whites with the smooth smugness so characteristic of him. He had a small towel looped around his neck which he was using to dry his very soft looking skin.

"Huh, I'm surprised that you didn't lock yourself up in the bathroom for one of those beauty sessions of yours." Pidge said as she joined Keith on the table again.

"Hey, it's not my fault that looking _this_ good requires dedication." Lance pointed at himself with both thumbs, and while still looking smug he wiggled his eyebrows at them.

Keith vaguely heard anything else from the teasing the three of them engaged on. His mind was suddenly sucked into the paper he was doodling on.

He wasn't sure what was he drawing, his hand was leading the pencil as if it had a will of its own. When he thought about it, it freaked him out that he could sometimes draw without even thinking or noticing. Like yesterday in the therapy session.

No. Keith didn't want to think of that again. He shook his head subtly and instead decided to actually focus on the drawing he was making. Those thoughtless lines were starting to have a shape. Keith would have continued to think that his bizarre 'talent' was creepy. However, each stroke soothed whatever unease that made him so restless. It felt right, whatever it was that he was drawing. He thought it was a branch, or an arm holding something. But what, he wondered, and his gut told him to simply continue so that he could find out.

Keith's attention was pulled again when Lance let out an overly dramatic gasp. Pidge was flaunting the autographed book in front of Lance.

"No _way._ "

"Read it and weep, Lance." Pidge sneered.

Lance took the book from her hands to closer inspect the elegantly scribbled words that spelled 'T. Shirogane' in black ink.

"You got this for Mullet? How come you never get one for me? I'm your buddy too! And you know that I'm his number one fan!" Lance whined, being a little dramatic for show. Although it was no secret that Lance loved Shiro's works and much like Matt, he was begging to have Shiro feature in one of his videos.

Pidge took the book back with a smug expression, "Actually, Lance, Takashi 'Shiro' Shirogane himself gave this book to Keith right after he signed it."

Keith had to hide the smile that was threatening to form on his face. What Pidge was telling Lance was a lie, of course. Pidge had been the one who gave Keith the book and she was the one who had insisted on the autograph for the very purpose of getting the over the top reactions from Lance. But watching said reactions was fun so, a white little lie wouldn't hurt.

"What the cheese? For real? Shiro gave _this guy_ an autographed book? But Keith doesn't even read his books! Or books at all -I think-! Heck, Keith doesn't even believe in ghosts and all that medium, psychic stuff!" Lance protested while flailing like the dramatic person that he was.

Lance's assumption drew a little more of Keith's attention but not enough to reply to Lance's comment. He just lifted an eyebrow at Lance but his hand continued scribbling.

"Oh please, Keith reads more books than you ever do, that's for sure." Pidge said while rolling her eyes.

"Yea Lance, besides, we've hung out with Shiro before. You could've always asked yourself to sign your book." Hunk pointed out casually as he rummaged through the fridge.

"Well, yea, we have, but not that many times. 'sides, when you're near your hero the _last_ thing you're gonna be thinking of is getting a scribble on paper! Not when you have the actual person right there talking with you and all that." Lance defended off-handedly.

"That didn't stop you from asking him if he could be featured in your videos though ..." Pidge murmured between gritted teeth.

But whether Lance didn't hear her, or ignored her it was unclear. He turned to Keith with a look of suspicion.

"I'm surprised _you_ don't have any snarky comebacks, Mullet. You're awfully quiet. Not that that's strange from you, but you seem a little more out of it than usual." Lance's eyes squinted further while his lips pulled to one side.

Unimpressed, Keith looked back at Lance but then he noticed his other two friends looking at him as well. Because apparently Lance had a point. Keith looked at each of them, at their expectant expression prompting him to sit straight and put his pencil down.

"Ah, sorry to disappoint you Lance. I _am_ distracted." Keith thought about answering with the wit and snark Lance was expecting of him, but he really didn't have the energy.

"Well we can see that." Lance replied a little dryly while he rose one of his eyebrows further, as if still expecting more for an answer.

Keith sighed in a little exasperation from the scrutiny, "I just … I just didn't sleep very well last night." Or more like at all, Keith added in his own head.

Lance hummed and looked Keith over, "Are you _sure_ you don't need to go back to bed? Take it from me, some beauty rest would do _real_ good. You look like shit right now."

"Geez _thank you_ Lance." Keith responded sarcastically giving Lance an unamused look, "Just how is it that you manage to insult me while also trying to be nice?" Keith half quipped, half meant the question.

"Must be a talent unique to Lance." Pidge deadpanned before she took another sip of her coffee.

"What?! What did I say?! Come on guys, I was just trying to say the truth and help!" Lance squawked in his own defense while looking from Pidge to Keith.

"Okay, okay, that's enough." Hunk broke off the squabble that could have ensued. He looked at Keith directly and asked, "Keith, wanna give me a hand with breakfast? Maybe leave Lance to practice his manners before serving."

"Sure." Keith didn't mind giving Hunk a hand, but he also got the feeling that Hunk wanted to distract Keith. They all knew Keith had certain … 'problems.' It was hard _not_ to notice.

So Keith closed his sketchbook, stood up and headed for the kitchen. He heard Lance grumble something behind him but he ignored him. For a moment he looked at his black gloves laid next to his sketchbook. But after thinking it over he decided he wouldn't need them this left them where they were.

Hunk tasked Keith with mincing the turkey ham, green peppers and onions. Hunk rarely asked for assistance in the kitchen as the guy was a culinary genius and he liked his space when cooking. Hunk once claimed that his reasoning was because if he had complete control he would be certain the food tasted good. Many would see it as just a pet peeve, but everyone in the house, and Hunk himself, saw it as a passion. And besides the aforementioned, Keith liked helping him and was, in fact, very grateful to him for the distraction.

"So, all kidding aside," Lance began as he sat back on his chair, "Other than getting that autographed book for Keith and completely forgetting about me, how was the therapy session yesterday Keith? Was it cool talking to Shiro?"

So much for not thinking about the therapy session. Keith was thought back to think on the things he felt, and the very odd circumstance when he very coincidentally guessed Shiro's car and the license plate. That was freaky and no matter how much Keith tried he couldn't find a logical explanation for it. And with the other things that have happened, his 'freak outs', and other embarrassing incidents, Keith didn't want them thinking of him as a freak. He wouldn't be surprised if they already didn't think of him as such.

"It went … Well, I guess," was the casual and dismissive answer Keith gave them.

Awfully vague, and certainly not what they wanted to hear. Keith could see in their faces that they wanted to know details. Lance looked like he actually wanted to question him, but Pidge nudged him in the arm while giving him a look.

"That's great Keith." Hunk shot him what looked like a genuine smile before turning again to the eggs he was breaking.

Keith however felt like he was pitied, or they were all just being nice. He really hoped not though.

"What I still don't understand," once again, Lance began curiously, "if Shiro is a writer, and a psychic, how is he going to help Keith? I mean, are you seeing ghosts Keith?"

Ghosts. That word made Keith cringe and it caused him to cut through the green pepper harder than necessary. Hunk must've noticed the tension somehow because Keith caught him from his peripheral vision looking at him worriedly.

Keith's unease must have been pretty clear to Lance because the young man took it as a confirmation head. Keith braced himself as Lance suddenly sat forward in his chair and his tone had a bit of excitement in it. "Oh man, you did see a ghost! That's why you freaked out the other day, right? If you are seeing ghosts, why didn't you tell us before?! I knew this place was haunted! We need to set up cameras!"

Lance was about to scramble out of his chair when Pidge, a little annoyed, pulled him by his shirt to sit down again. " _Lance,_ this place is _not_ haunted."

"Oh, how do _you_ know Pidge? You're a tech junkie, this is out of your area of expertise." Lance pouted at her.

"Maybe, but I definitely have more experience in it than _you_. Shiro grew up with my family, remember?"

"Still doesn't make you an expert though. But anyways, Keith, you must've read a bit of his book already, right? The guy is _amazing!_ You must've asked him about ghosts? Or-or visions? And how psychics use their powers right? I mean the book he gave you talks about it, but there can always be more extra detail when talking to the actual expert!"

Lance was talking and asking too much, too fast. Although Lance had remained on his seat, he leaned forward the more he talked, while his attention tunneled on Keith.

Focusing on the simple task of mincing was becoming a challenge. Suddenly a space that was familiar to Keith became too crowded. Hunk and Pidge were silent but Keith could feel the restrained curiosity coming from their gazes. Keith didn't want to fault them for trying to comprehend something they didn't understand. But the attention was too much, especially when Keith himself could not explain whatever was wrong with him; he couldn't provide anyone with any answer.

Frustration was too light a word to describe the hot, bubbling feeling under Keith's skin.

The loud knock of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board commanded immediate silence. Keith leaned heavily over the counter while taking deep breaths.

"Keith?" Hunk sounded tentative and although Keith had his eyes closed, he could sense that Hunk's hand was reaching out to touch him.

Keith immediately stepped back, and when he opened his eyes Hunk's hand was indeed hanging in mid air. He stepped back a little more as if Hunk's hand would hurt him.

The awkwardness that followed was one of the things that Keith has been trying to avoid. It was rapidly increasing and Keith felt like he just wanted to bolt out of the place.

"I gotta go to work." Keith started awkwardly as he began to move towards the door.

"Wait, wait, without eating anything?" Hunk nearly squawked, concerned and alarmed like he always got whenever someone would skip a meal.

"I'm sorry Hunk. I'm really not hungry, and maybe Pidge or Lance can help you finish those." Keith gestured to the minced veggies and ham. Then he gathered his sketchbook and the book into his messenger bag.

"But you should eat something, or at least take it and eat it later?" Hunk offered meekly, which in turn made Keith feel bad. Keith knew that the young man was trying to watch out for him.

"Thank you Hunk, but it's okay. I'll get something later. I have to go, my share of the bills won't pay themselves." Keith really tried to say it jokingly, hoping that he wouldn't make any of them feel bad. Because it was clear that Keith was trying to slip away.

All the same, the weariness and the edge on his tone was too clear. Keith cringed at himself for it.

His three friends exchanged glances, then they looked at Keith again.

"Well, no, but we don't make a big fuss about it. There's three other of us that can cover rent so, if you need to rest you should stay. You really look tired." Pidge insisted, clearly not satisfied with Keith's poor attempts at evading. Out of the three, she was the most difficult to fool.

"Yeah man, I mean, Kolivan would totally understand, right?" Lance added.

Keith shrugged a shoulder as he put his bag on. Both Pidge and Lance were right, his body was begging him to just lay down, while his mind was full to capacity and he felt the urge to empty it in the form of his drawings. Keith wasn't about to say that. Last thing he wanted was to draw any more of their attention. He wasn't sure he would know how to handle more of it.

"Maybe," Keith shrugged at Lance trying to be casual, "but work helps get my mind off of things. I'll see you in the afternoon. Text me if I need to bring anything when I come back."

Keith rushed to the door as discreet as he could be and headed out.

* * *

Keith wasn't worried about walking to work and getting there late. He always walked to work since the fire station wasn't too far away. The walk would normally help relieve some of the tension, whose effect was becoming very evident in the form of pressure on his temples. The noises from the street were particularly loud. They were keeping him in constant alert and feeling so out of his element. He was getting aggravated because instead of the walk helping him with stress, it was building up more.

Although, he was thankful for the nightmare-free night he had. It had come at the cost of his sleep, so it was a small victory, Keith supposed he would take said small victory over nothing at all.

"Help!"

Keith stopped cold in his tracks at the sudden, distressed call from a man. He looked around. He realized bewilderingly that oddly, the people on the street were minding their own business.

Alarms went off in Keith's head and he was about to speedwalk the remaining of his way when he heard it again.

"Oh god _please!_ _Someone_ help me!" Keith thought the call was coming from somewhere behind him. Of course, Keith had the natural response to locate the person in distress so that he could help in whatever way he could. He couldn't possibly be imagining it. His intuition was warning him to do otherwise.

His natural response won over. Again there was nothing, but Keith continued to look just in case he was missing something. The people around him still went on going about their day, some even started to look at him a bit funny as they passed by him. It was making the hairs on his neck stand to end; that gut feeling twisting in familiar foreboding, like he was being warned to brace himself for something.

There was nothing. He was imagining it. For the love of _God_ , he couldn't believe he was imagining something _again_. Scared and angry with himself Keith was about to turn around again and start walking when he bumped into someone. The apology he was about to say died before it even got sputtered. The man he bumped into smelled of smoke, the skin on his face was charred to the bone on some parts, and hanging off on others; the eyes were two black holes that sucked Keith into a chasm of fear.

The Burned Man.

To say that Keith jumped out of his skin would be putting it lightly. He blanched, very literally feeling the color draining from his face. The 'man' reached out with his marred hand. Keith was so desperate to pull away that he tripped back on his feet and fell to the floor. The scream he wanted to let out was stuck in his chest.

The contact with the hard surface sent a jolt up his body. When Keith looked up, the terror that haunted him wasn't there. Instead there stood a normal looking man that seemed perplexed by Keith's state of panic.

"Hey, you okay there buddy?" The man asked while offering Keith his hand to help him up.

The shock didn't let Keith answer. He was so certain that just a second ago he saw the entity that haunted most of his nights. And just like that he was gone.

 _No … not again … please not_ ** _again!_**

The man looked more alarmed the longer Keith went without answering. But Keith forgot how to use his words. He at least managed a measly nod while his heart was still beating hard and fast. Keith barely acknowledged the offer to help him up as he stood on his own, and walked away as fast as he could.

The Daibazaal city fire station was the biggest around. It was located near the heart of the city which made them very efficient at the time of any emergencies.

Thankfully he hadn't been too far away from the fire station, and arriving there was a godsend. He was safe there, or should be, as instinct kept telling him to look over his shoulder.

In his hurry Keith entered through the station's very wide garage, still very shaken. Despite telling himself that it was his mind playing sick tricks on him again.

"Hey sport!"

The greeting was by a familiar voice, but the unexpectancy of it startled Keith. When he looked back he saw two firemen cleaning one of the fire trucks. Two firemen that were familiar faces he was glad to see.

"Oh, Thace, Ulaz … he-hey."

Thace, a man in his late twenties, with lightly tanned skin and dark hair, was the one who had greeted him. Thace threw Keith a small smile, his amber eyes pinching slightly at the corners as he got down from where he was perched on the fire truck. When he walked towards Keith he threw the rag he was using over his shoulder. His posture was straight and the way he walked with his head high emanated confidence.

Thace's partner Ulaz got off the truck as well, with the calmness that often distinguished him. Usually wore a more serious expression and composed posture. He was just a few years older than Thace, and taller. Most of his head was completely shaved, save for a small mohawk that was such a light shade of blonde it looked white. It was one of the features that identified him the most.

Keith forced himself to steel his nerves because once Ulaz and Thace saw him he knew the questions were coming. Questions, he wouldn't want to answer when he was struggling to keep the image of The Burned Man out of his head. That was why Keith tried to hurry past them so the men, hopefully, wouldn't notice his unease.

It was a hard thing to be discrete when one was shaken from head to toe.

"Whoa, hey, are you alright?" Thace was the first to ask.

Keith hadn't realized how close by them he had walked until Thace's hand gripped his upper arm, trying to make him slow down. Although the touch was gentle Keith wasn't able to stop his body from flinching. The movement wasn't lost on either of the two men. Thace quickly retrieved his hand looking worried. Ulaz squinted his hazel eyes which was an indicator to Keith that he was checking for anything unusual that might have been cause for concern.

"Did something happen on your way here? You seem very distressed." Asked Ulaz with his soothing tone, and very distinctive accent.

The concern was appreciated. But Keith winced since he would have to most probably lie to them about what had just happened. There was no way he was going to let them see more of his fragile mind. His brain scrambled for an answer while he kept his gaze away from them. Instead of staying in one place to chat Keith schooled his expression and played the casual one. He shrugged and turned to walk in the direction of the lockers for personal belongings that were on the far end of the garage. Keith answered them as he walked since he knew Ulaz and Thace were going to follow.

"Nothing. I just lost track of time and thought I was late. So I walked here as fast as I could." Keith assumed that the questions came because he had looked frantic and almost out of breath. Therefore he used the most logical explanation he could for said behavior. But Keith wondered if that would be enough to also explain why his hands were shaking so badly that they were fumbling with the combination lock on his locker.

He knew the older men would notice, he could feel the weight of their stare and their presence; Keith didn't need to see them to know that the two were having one of those 'quiet conversations' they had when they stared at each other.

"You don't look so good though." Thace said firm in his observation, but trying not to sound accusatory.

So no. The reality was that Keith wasn't 'good' or 'alright'. Keith did not want to tell them that the reason why he came in looking like a madman was because his own imagination was out to get him again. And he wasn't sure there was a way for him to explain without sounding like he has finally gone completely mad, or lying.

The latter was especially frustrating for him. And his damned bag refusing to fit properly in his locker because of his clumsy hands weren't helping to that frustration.

A good shove and a slam of the creaky metal door made his bag fit. Before responding to Thace, Keith took a few seconds to breathe and subdue the strong pounding in his chest. He caressed the back of his neck and shrugged to play up his aloof facade.

"I've been worse. I'll survive the day." Keith quickly realized it was too much of a neutral response and not convincing enough. So he quickly thought of an excuse, "I'm just a little tired, I was ... studying. With my friends."

The answer was finished awkwardly, but Keith hoped that they wouldn't notice. Which seemed to be the case when both Ulaz and Thace's expressions turned into surprise.

"Studying? So have you at last decided what you would like to do?" Even in his level, patient sounding voice Keith could detect the thrill in Ulaz's voice.

And Keith suddenly regretted telling them that in particular.

"Oh, so tell us, what's it gonna be kiddo? Will you be joining us as a fireman, or are you still thinking on pursuing graphic designing? You could make us a new logo!" Thace chuckled as he playfully gave Keith a little shove.

The excitement in both men was palpable despite their effort of keeping it subtle and jovial. Keith's mental state was no secret to them. Keith had clear that they kept saying and asking those things because they wanted to see him well, to further encourage him in his recovery. Yet Keith still cringed internally when he had to answer them. But it wasn't because he didn't want the encouragement, it was because Keith felt like he was disappointing since he couldn't get his act together.

"I, uh … I-I'm not sure … " The awkwardness wasted no time in showing itself in his tone and Keith took a step back as if somehow that would make it less apparent. And as if it would help Keith added, "Yet."

The brighter mood fell. Not by much, but Keith could sense it and it didn't feel good at all. Keith hated not living up to their expectations.

"Ah, so you were helping them out? That's still good Keith, that can motivate you more! Keeps your mind active and sharp." Thace's encouragement was heartfelt and it actually made Keith's heart jump a little.

If only it wasn't a lie …

Although Keith _has_ studied with Pidge, Hunk and Lance at times. But in the instance he was talking about that has not been the case.

"Yea … Sharp." Keith repeated under his breath. His mind was anything but.

"Whichever you _do_ end up deciding, or if you decide on doing something else entirely, Keith just give it your all. You'll have our support." Ulaz graced him a smirk that turned uncharacteristically mischievous in seconds, "I do hope you'll join us here as more than just a station volunteer. We can use a strong young man like you."

That somehow made Keith snort as he held back his laugh. He slightly opened his arms to the side in a vague gesture to look at his frame and rose an eyebrow at the two men.

" _Strong_? Have you looked at me? I look like I can get blown away by a strong breeze!" Keith knew he was exaggerating a bit because yes he was lithe, but not scrawny as he often made out himself to be.

He could not possibly do what they all did. He wasn't strong enough physically. Nor mentally for that matter. He could help soothe the victims of a fire on site, and help with maintenance of equipment and the station itself. But that was the extent of his skill, and he was surprised he could manage even that. Therefore, he was not about to push his luck.

Despite Keith's insinuation however, Ulaz gave him that small, kind and sad smile he always gave him whenever Keith showed any lack of self confidence. Even when he hid it behind a playful jab.

Ulaz approached him and he very carefully put his hand on Keith's shoulder, giving Keith time to back off from the touch if he wanted to. "Believe me, you have _much_ strength in you. You will find it someday, and perhaps you will find someone that helps you spark it."

At that moment Ulaz exchanged a fond, loving smile with Thace that caused a warm feeling in Keith's chest. He found himself smiling a bit as he looked at them.

Keith's smile suddenly turned sad as he got an empty feeling within him. He wondered about Ulaz's words and thought if he really would be able to find such strength. Whether it was by himself or the help of someone. The latter sounded especially nice.

"Well, someone's gotta watch your reckless back, right?" Thace teased while smirking, which only made Ulaz's expression go from fond to smug.

Then Ulaz and Thace regarded him again, he hummed softly and offered Keith a little friendly advice.

"Anyways, Keith, just take it easy today. Don't want you to be overworking yourself if you aren't at full strength."

The man meant well so Keith took it in stride and even allowed Thace to touch his shoulder. Although that was most likely because Keith's skin was concealed under two layers of clothes and he wouldn't have to feel anything from the foreign touch. Just the mere idea of someone else's skin making contact with his sent shudders up his spine. It reminded him of his sleep paralysis, and the hand shaped bruise he had around his wrist throbbed. Keith held it as his fears began to creep up on him; he held it very tight as he wasn't going to let them control him. A resolve that didn't last him long as it was violently shattered by the shrill screech of the fire truck's siren.

All three men jumped out of their skin by the unexpected sound, the truck in protest being the one that Ulaz and Thace had been working on. The loud noise amplified as it bounced around the walls, the noise so loud that they covered their ears with their hands.

"What the fuck?!" Ulaz growled as he turned around and ran to the truck to shut it off. Keith couldn't hear him, but Keith could read his lips.

Keith shut his eyes close as the noise penetrated deeper into his ears. It didn't stop, it echoed in the confines of his own mind; it screamed of confusion, it shrilled of fear, wailed of sadness and he tried harder to block the sound out. Briefly Keith wondered why hadn't Thace turned off the blasted thing off already! He closed his eyes harder to try and calm down, his heart was beating much quicker than he thought it should. It pounded and pounded, loud in his ears, like drums pounding to the beat of war. His throat bobbed to push down the sudden anger sizzling under his skin.

Police escorted a much younger version of himself through his head in a blur. There was a house he hardly remembered. Endless questions he couldn't answer. Or, questions that he _did_ answer. It was just that said answers weren't good enough. The voice from a frightened boy echoed in his ears.

 _"It was the ghosts. It was them! The burned man and the burned lady!"_

A pair of hands touched him but he swatted them away in a panicked frenzy. The bruise on his wrist throbbed harder, like a vice grip dragging him into somewhere unknown.

No! He didn't want to be dragged into the dark!

But ghosts weren't real, they were a figment of his broken mind and he needed to stop.

"Hey Keith!" Thace's voice called out of the blue causing Keith to jump and look at the man like he was about to attack him. "Whoa, hey, calm down, it's alright. It's off, Ulaz turned it off."

Thace's tone was one of patience, yet Keith must have looked awful by the strange and concerned look he was getting from Thace. And all around some of the other firemen had peeked out to see what the commotion was about. Keith heard Ulaz throw an apology, that it was an accident and there was no cause for alarm.

"What is going on out here?!" The demand made by a stern and commanding voice, even when there was a hint of surprise in it as well.

The new voice drew their attention towards the hallway on the second floor. There stood the chief of the station, Kolivan.

Ulaz approached Keith and Thace looking frazzled at the keys to the ignition in his hand, to the truck, then at Kolivan above them.

"I'm not sure, sir. I was talking with Thace and Keith and it just went off!"

"On its own?" Thace questioned in confusion only for Keith and Ulaz to hear.

"I took the keys off the ignition." Ulaz continued to explain for everyone to hear. He looked more bewildered than Thace as he looked at the keys on his hand and at the truck once more.

Keith felt bad for Ulaz and he would have tried helping him find an explanation. It was a difficult thing to do when Keith was increasingly in discomfort; his hairs standing to end to the point his skin prickled, and his chest was tight. Too tight.

"A malfunction maybe?" Thace offered.

Keith slowly looked up at Kolivan to see the man frown in consideration to Thace's suggestion.

"It is possible." Kolivan conceded and pointed at two other firemen that were some steps away from Keith, Thace and Ulaz. "Antok, Regris, help Thace and Ulaz look into it. Everyone else, there's nothing more to see."

No one questioned the order and just went about as if nothing had happened. Thace and Ulaz hesitated as Keith and Kolivan's eyes made contact.

"Keith." The tone was hard to read, and Kolivan's stoic expression didn't help, but Keith thought of it as Kolivan's curt way of greeting him.

It made his muscles tense. He knew that Kolivan was reading the distress in his eyes. That cued Keith to regard him with a straight posture and by putting on his strong front. Keith knew what the man was about to say next.

"May I see you in my office."

"Be right there, Sir." Keith took some pride in how he managed to keep his voice from mumbling or shaking. If Kolivan was going to talk about what Keith thought he was going to talk about, he hoped that he could keep up the facade.

"Hey kid." Thace stopped him before Keith left. When Keith turned both Ulaz and Thace looked concerned, though Ulaz's expression was more apologetic.

"Sorry for the scare there, I honestly don't know what happened. That was really bizarre." Ulaz said.

"It … wasn't your fault. Like Thace said, the siren probably malfunctioned." Keith mumbled although he wasn't sure if he had repeated it to reassure Ulaz and Thace, or himself. Ulaz breathed out softly and nodded once.

Thace slightly changed the subject as he gave a quick glance to where Kolivan had been standing then looked at Keith again while gesturing with his head to the said spot. "I know he seems to be in a mood today, but try not to be hard on him, he's been pretty worried about you."

Keith scoffed softly and although he smirked, he dryly said, "It's Kolivan, he _always_ looks like he's in a mood."

"Keith." Ulaz drawled disapprovingly but with a soft tone.

"But I'll try." Keith threw his hands up in surrender and turned around to head towards the stairs. As he did he threw over his shoulders a, "I'll catch you guys in a bit."

Keith had felt a little defensive towards what Thace had advised him, and Ulaz seconding him. Ulaz was the most patient of the whole crew and Keith liked listening to his advice whenever he had to offer any. Thace was a good listener, even if Keith didn't often share his thoughts. But regarding other general things, Thace was nice to talk to. Nevertheless, that didn't mean that Keith was fond of Ulaz and Thace knowing about the tension he sometimes had with Kolivan.

As Keith ascended the stairs and headed to Kolivan's office he tried to suppress his anxiety. While he approached his throat became so dry it almost made him cough. But the sudden thirst, it was one Keith knew was not the kind water would satisfy.

He swallowed to relieve the itch and focused on Kolivan. "Good morning Chief."

Kolivan who was sitting behind his desk, sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, gestured Keith to take the seat in front. And so Keith did, hesitantly, but he did.

"So how did it go?" Kolivan started after a small moment of silence.

Keith sagged. There was no other question he should have expected and he immediately tensed up again at the reminder. "I just got here. Do we _really_ have to talk about _that_ now?"

Kolivan squinted at him while tilting his head subtly. "If not now, then when? You always avoid the subject whenever I try to check on you."

Keith scoffed softly as he kept looking down at his hands. He debated whether or not he should provide a proper answer, or just simply try to deride the subject. Either way, Kolivan was not going to leave the subject alone which annoyed Keith. Even if he knew that Kolivan simply cared.

"There's just not much to report Kolivan. It's just the usual: go in, talk for a while, vent, do some therapy exercises to de-stress, get out."

Kolivan nodded softly but he was not pleased with that answer given the very serious look he had in his face. Keith realized too late that he shouldn't have given him that answer.

Kolivan stared at him for a little bit in silence. "So then are you saying it's pointless? A waste of time?"

"I didn't say that." Keith responded quickly while frowning at him.

Kolivan made a small deep sound and his deep blue eyes looked Keith over again. "You're upset."

"Oh yea? What gave me away?" Keith gritted unable to contain his frustration, and the sarcasm.

"Keith," Kolivan paused and sighed very softly and looking a little dejected. "Almost everyone here has known you since you were a baby, Krolia and Heath brought you here when you were just a few days old. We all care for your well-being." Kolivan paused for a moment while he looked at Keith in the eye and grappled with his thoughts. "And me, as your uncle, I just want to know if that 'Sam' is doing his job properly. The last 'Doctor' we sent you to was missing a few marbles and look at what she did to you."

Feelings boiled under Keith's skin and his fists clenched. The mention of his parents stirred uncomfortable feelings in him that he pushed down with difficulty. "Did to me? What exactly did she did to me? Turn me into a nut job? Is that what you're going to say?"

"No Keith, but that Honerva, she _did_ some damage. I don't want to think Sam is leading you there too."

"You just said it yourself, Honerva was a quack. Sam isn't." Keith's expression pinched into something close to a snarl.

"I usually don't pressure you to tell me what happens in your sessions because I know it's private. But today you seem more distressed than usual, it's like you're with that witch all over again. So, I felt compelled to ask."

Keith's frown deepened and he kept shaking his head. If he were a different person, he would have bolted out of the office and left Kolivan hanging. But even if he was frustrated with him, Keith had respect for him.

"He could be feeding you ideas. I'm just trying to watch out for you Keith."

"That's funny coming from _you."_ Keith mumbled.

Kolivan looked at him with incredulity. Keith regretted the words almost as soon as they left him, but he didn't say that out loud. Kolivan sighed and when he spoke again he was calm but sounded regretful.

"You are entitled to your anger Keith. And maybe I could've done more to get you out of foster care sooner. But I've always wanted nothing more than to help you, which is why I want to make sure the treatment with Sam is actually working. Because so far, I'm seeing no improvement. It's easy to tell that you have not been sleeping, and you just nearly had a panic attack just moments ago with that freak alarm."

"Well Kolivan if it's too much to handle maybe you should just have me locked up. Everyone else seems to think it's a great idea."

Keith knew he struck a nerve when he heard Kolivan exhale. The man's patience was being tried and it was reaching its end. Keith did not particularly enjoy being the cause of it, but he knew exactly how far to push just so the conversation would end.

"I'm _trying_ Keith." A taught pause followed that showed that Kolivan was trying to stay level headed. The man was usually patient, so Keith wondered exactly how he knew how to push him. "I really don't know what it is that I'm supposed to do here."

There was a question there for Keith and he detected it. Keith actually repeated the question to himself as he looked straight into Kolivan's eyes: What did he want for Kolivan to do?

As Keith grew up in the foster care system he often wanted the comfort and support of his uncle, the only family he had. But the longer Keith spent in the system, that sentiment morphed into doubt.

"I don't know either." The honesty slipped through Keith's mouth without him really thinking about it. Kolivan's eyes dropped to the desk and Keith licked his dry lips.

Keith felt bad for snapping at Kolivan. What happened wasn't the man's fault and he did try. Keith considered that he shouldn't be hard on him, like Ulaz had told him. But sometimes, it was just hard to keep closed a wound that hasn't properly healed.

After yet another small silence Kolivan sighed softly, once more conversing Keith more ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"Sam brought someone who he thinks can help."

Whatever Kolivan was about to say died before it could leave his mouth. He looked a little despondent as he dropped it in favor of following Keith's slight change of subject. He raised an eyebrow, "Someone? Aren't sessions supposed to be private?"

"I guess. Sam made sure I was okay with it more times than I can count, before bringing him in." Keith shrugged as he thought of saying more, but what could he say about Shiro? He only just met him yesterday and their meeting had been … strange. Possibly not the best idea to tell Kolivan any details for the moment. Not unless he wanted to be in for another round of questioning.

Naturally, Kolivan wanted to know more, it was clear in the very air surrounding them.

"Alright then. How is this …" Kolivan rolled his wrist as he softly drawled the last syllable, the question clear in Kolivan's eyes.

"Shiro."

"Shiro." Kolivan repeated firmly, like he was making sure he memorized it. "How is this _Shiro_ helping you then?"

Keith sighed while caressing his temples and answered with a little annoyance, "I can't tell you that when I barely just met him yesterday. I'm not sure what he's planning.

That didn't put his uncle at ease in the slightest. Disapproval and mistrust flashed in Kolivan's deep blue eyes and Keith braced himself for more questions. Though he was surprised when Kolivan refrained.

"Hm, well, if you trust Sam and want to continue, fine. I Just want you to watch out Keith."

"It's fine. I can handle it." Yes, perhaps Kolivan did want nothing more than to see Keith well, but Keith really had enough for the moment and couldn't take more of the tension. "Permission to leave, sir? I think Thace and Ulaz need help with those trucks."

Kolivan hesitated and after another deep sigh he conceded, "Granted."

Keith immediately stood up and left. Before he headed back down to the garage he went to the break room. He needed to quiet his mind. Too many things have happened already and he has barely started the day.

Keith all but punched the door open, he forgot that the hand he used was bruised. The shock caused awful pain to his wrist and he cursed through gritted Keith.

Why was he here? Why was he working in a _fire station_ of all things? It was supposed to cause him pain. And whenever he was in the field working with fire victims he could feel something moving right beneath the surface of his mind. He wasn't sure what it was, neither was he sure if he really wanted to find out. But at the same time he just did not see himself elsewhere, like something was anchoring him.

It could possibly be just another result of his trauma; a bizarre coping mechanism. He hated not knowing, not having a clear answer. Because all he saw was the other foster kids making fun of him, the doctor that put his mental state in a even worst place, the policemen escorting him out of a house some firefighters were trying to salvage from the inferno; the policewoman subsequently asking him questions, too many questions he did not know the answer to.

It passed like a fleeting breeze.

An image. The image of a scared little boy with his face stained with soot and the dregs of tears; the blanket around him a faux embrace; a very poor replacement to that of his Mother and Father's warm, strong arms. But it was still better than the cold and the monsters that laid within it …

Keith subtly shook his head while he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was not the time to be remembering things like that. He didn't want his day to get any worse, and he would rather focus on work.

* * *

When Keith got home that afternoon he went straight for the shower. The sound of the water running echoed in the silent space of the bathroom. A steady thrum to ease unsteady thoughts, their warmth intended to massage away tension from muscles. Sat on the bathtub and under the constant flow, Keith intended to let his mind wander: Knees brought up to his chest, arms around them, and his left thumb grinding against his left pointer finger in an attempt to rub off his anxiousness layer by layer.

There was no fear of falling into the terror of his own sleep. There were no sudden visions of his past; memories he didn't even remember he had. There were no crazy illusions, nor freaky coincidences of him guessing things he wasn't supposed to know. It was just him and the quest for comfort in the silence; just him and the soothing water caressing the peachy red skin of his back.

Work had gone surprisingly well despite the rough start. Keith would even dare say that for a few hours he had felt normal. But as soon as he had nothing to keep his head occupied with, the questions and thoughts from earlier returned full throtle.

In the calm silence his thoughts wandered off, mostly lingering in his last therapy session. Specifically in that one moment he just couldn't get out of his head; the one thing he just couldn't find a logical explanation for and therefore planted some doubt. The damned license plate he just so happened to guess correctly. He has never met Shiro, therefore he could not possibly know any details about his car. Keith tried to recall if Pidge might have mentioned it or _something_. But then again why would she have it memorized? Same as why would Shiro have a picture of his license plate in his phone but, Keith digressed.

It had been _too_ much of a coincidence and if Keith didn't knew any better, he would have said that it was a very elaborate, and also awful prank. But, the more he tried to find the logic behind it, the more he wondered if he could really say that he was just sick. That his mind was fractured, fragile like thin ice and Keith threaded over it like such. And that his encounter with Shiro felt like a boulder had been placed over the frail layer; placed softly, with care, but any less leaden and Keith wasn't sure he could support it.

"It's all in my head …" Keith repeated softly to himself. And the more he kept reminding himself that, the sooner he would get better. He hoped.

Two strong knocks on the door abruptly stopped his train of thoughts cold.

"Keith?" Came Hunk's worried voice from outside. "Keith, are you okay in there buddy?"

The wrinkles in his fingers should have been an indicator of how long he's been in the shower. It was a given that one of them would check in on him sooner or later.

Keith rubbed his face and in the same motion pushed his bangs back. He hoped that the excuse he was about to say would be enough. "Yes Hunk. I-I'm fine, jus' washing my hair."

There was hesitation instead of an answer. It was short however and Keith was glad he didn't have to explain himself further.

"Okay, just checking that you hadn't drown in there, man." It was clearly meant to be a joke, but the other young man's concern wasn't entirely masked.

Keith's lips twitched up lightly at one corner but it quickly disappeared. "Thank you Hunk."

Keith felt more apprehension coming from the other side of the door but nothing else was said. He assumed Hunk left him to his own devices. But Keith supposed it was time to get out of the shower, to not cause any further concern to his peers. He shut the water off and peeled himself from the small bubble that had granted him a few minutes of safety; shut off from the things that gnawed at his being, torturously savoring every last bit.

As soon as he stepped out he could feel them, the demons created by his own head; he could feel the phantoms running their hands up his neck, grabbing at his arms, tugging him back into the dark.

The dark, it would sink him, it would drown him, and no matter how much he struggled he couldn't escape and oh no, he couldn't _breathe._ Fingers became stiff as they attempted to carry out the basic function of getting Keith dressed. The door knob refused to open under the bidding of inept hands that would not stop shaking. Keith's room wasn't far from the bathroom but he took long strides anyways even when he thought he heard someone calling his name. Keith thought it was Pidge. He _hoped_ it was Pidge and not his treacherous imagination that wanted to haunt him to insanity.

The strong click of his door snapped some of his senses back, but he was still lacking air in his lungs. He needed to escape, he needed to be _safe._ But even going to his room felt suffocating. He didn't want the shadows of memories to swallow him. He needed a way out. Tremors wanted to shake him, but he strained his muscles to resist them. He wasn't safe, he felt like he was drowning and he needed to at least get his head out to _breathe_.

The itchiness in his throat returned, he was parched even though he drank a lot of water not so long ago. His thirst was spurred on by the anxiety spiking up his entire being. What happened earlier on the day threatened to haunt him again. He remembered the smell of burning skin, the face disfigured beyond recognition and the fear clawing at his back.

He needed to drink something that would, ironically, burn those images off his head; drown away his worries. Because even if he saw visions while drunk out of his mind; at least he'd forget them, and the drunken night, when the hangover came. He was certain he had a bottle hidden somewhere …

He first searched his closet, in that wooden box he kept at the bottom. It was where he usually kept the only medicine that truly made him forget. Oddly, it wasn't there, perhaps he misplaced it. The simple answer wasn't enough to stop desperation shooting up his spine. Drawers were flipped, sheets were peeled back; Keith searched every corner of his room. But sadly for him, he did not have a bottle of that intoxicating yet so very helpful drink.

Desperation was paving the way for anger and in that boiling mix, conflict was beginning to concoct. Like oil and water Keith's options became. On the one side every inch of his being begged for the sweet release on reality. On the other, the fear of disappointment, of letting down all those who are trying so hard to help him. And Keith was being dissolved like a grain of salt, consumed by his own misery.

He just needed a release, a break. That was all he wanted but apparently it was too much to ask for. He paced around his room while raking his head with his fingers like a madman. Though that comparison was not too far for the truth when Keith thought about it.

Suddenly like an instinct it hit him. On his desk one of his sketchbooks laid open, calling him over to release his worries on pristine white pages; to let his creativity draw out the bad images so instead better ones could take place.

He almost darted towards his desk, didn't even bother to sit down, and grabbed his pencil. Keith carefully lowered his hand to draw. Anything would do, he just needed to _let it out._ However, his hand was shaking too much.

When the shaking didn't stop he kicked his desk and leaned over it defeated. If he couldn't draw, he wouldn't be able to escape the scary images that laid in wait. If he couldn't drink he wouldn't be able to forget. The dark would get to him and the terrible figments of his imagination would come once more.

A soft thump on the floor beside him startled the desperation out. Keith looked down expecting to see whichever of his horrid nightmare has come to life, so used to that being the outcome. The bag on the floor, his messenger bag, presented a book to him. The simple source of his jolt made him feel silly, as if the book was telling him he was being paranoid.

Paranoia. Right. He has been diagnosed with that … this is nothing but another of his anxiety attacks. Another testament to how unstable he was …

Keith scoffed in dry humor while holding his bangs back. It was just his bag that fell to the floor and the book fell out of it. He could pick it up. There was nothing to fear. Keith breathed, bent down and picked it up.

As soon as he touched the book something strange happened. Calmness washed over him like a gentle mist. Keith almost pulled away by the surprise.

Keith frowned at the object and hesitantly he picked it. He instantly felt at ease, the desire to drink until his throat burned subdued.

 _Weird_ , Keith thought to himself as he sat on the edge of his bed. Reading wasn't usually something that helped him with his panic attacks. It made him wonder why was he suddenly so intrigued by the book. The design of the cover was simple, colored in hues of grays and blues, but rather than causing gloom, it was like staring at cloudy day while enveloped in a cosy blanket and drinking hot cocoa, or any other warm drink.

The material was so perfectly smooth under Keith's fingertips. He could almost imagine the words impressed in the pages as he traced over the cover.

At the top of the cover, the title: **Psychics, Mediums and Psychology: The Differences and Signs.**

At the bottom, the name of the author: **Takashi Shirogane.**

Right. Shiro's book. Keith had forgotten all about it for a second time that day.

It was weird that he could hear the things he thought would be in the book. Read by a steady deep voice. One that he could distinctively tell apart even though he's only heard it once.

Shiro's voice.

Keith's head suddenly felt heavy for his own neck to withstand and his body craved the softness of his bed. And for the first time in days the idea of sleep didn't prickle his skin like a ferocious cold would. Calmness and silence were shutting down his body; like a phone slowing down on its performance in the last drags of its battery.

Yet his hands remained on the book; one holding it, the other tracing the image and letters on the front. It was bizarre. Keith felt like he came out of a little trance. But how could he be hypnotized by just a book? That was the question he asked himself.

 _It's just a book_ , he repeated. Maybe he was just too tired, it has been quite a day. Keith opened the book to examine the autograph Pidge got for him. The name was barely legible, more akin to a scrawl so reminiscent of the messy lines in a doodle. Elegant and unique, nonetheless; flowy like a gentle river stream Keith let himself fall into.

It's just a book … A _very soothing_ book.

Keith frowned a little and grabbed a good chunk of the pages and let them flutter under his thumb. Pidge had insisted on him reading. But what good would reading a book really do? That would not cure him of his issues …

But it was just such a strange and curious book that Keith couldn't help but wonder if he could lose himself in its pages.

* * *

 **A/n** : Heeeyyyyy! I'm aliiiiveee, lol. So, it's been a while and I'm sorry for the wait. But alas, I give to you a long chapter I hope you enjoyed! I really wanted to make a chapter from Keith's POV and I was being really careful on giving away just enough, but not too much (yet), hence why it took me a WHILE. But anywho, I would really, REALLY love to hear your thoughts and thank you so much for reading!

As always, also thanks to thequalityrunaway! And to Kitsune and Meena for the help you guys provided! And to the rest of you, for the support and I really help you guys enjoyed this one and are looking forward to the next!

See ya all in the next one~~~


	6. The Calm

**Chapter 6: The Calm**

It has been three days since that strange day in the fire station. Three days in which Keith has suffered little to no 'freaky' experiences. Keith didn't know whether to count that as either a blessing, or if it was just a 'calm before the storm' type of thing; in which eventually his haunting nightmares or sleep paralysis will come to him with a vengeance. And Keith was just waiting for it to happen, bracing himself for the waves of torture.

On the positive side, Keith didn't feel like he had to drag himself to the Holts' place, _and_ was actually able to put food down and _keep_ it down. Much to Hunk's delight.

Today, on his free day, he sat there on his favorite side of the love seat, the one that was closest to the window, in Sam's private, little office. The soft scribble of Sam's pen served as comforting background noise. Sam has already given him his greetings, and asked him the basic questions he always did before starting a session: 'How are you?' 'Did you eat?' and the like. And after Keith gave him his answers, Sam would observe and take notes.

Notes about what exactly, Keith could only guess. He imagined Sam was merely looking for any signs or side effects from both his conditions and medicine. Probably also seeing if Keith was coherent enough and not under the effect of some other thing Keith wasn't exactly proud of. And that he rather not remind himself of.

Thus he let the man do his job, and in the meantime spaced out. The momentary silence allowed Keith to reflect more on something that has been bothering him for the last three days. This reprieve that he has been granted by his illnesses was not normal. Not in the last couple of years of his life. Concerning to say the least. Downright dreadful at the worst.

Keith could just feel it in his far too young to be so tired bones. The perpetual cold on his skin, the shadows that stalked him were still there, always there. Waiting. They were really going to thrash him on his next 'episode.' And the worst of it was that Keith could not predict when or where.

It was a good thing that the light sting on the side of his pointer finger from rubbing it so much, prevented him from spiraling too far. In many ways he was grateful for that little habit of his, or else he would probably be having a meltdown in front of Sam.

Maybe it was best to shift his thoughts, he considered. It was then he remembered the new development Sam told him about after greeting him today. Or, when Keith thought about it, perhaps 'new' wasn't the proper word for it. Keith had already known about that so-called 'development'. He just hadn't given it enough thought, while also not expecting that it was going to happen so soon. Now he was definitely thinking about it and about what consequences it could bring.

Keith wasn't really fond of the surprise. Like the stubborn man that he was nevertheless, he wasn't going to complain about it and just take it all like a champ.

"Keith." A soft call of his name from Sam and his attention was at once drawn back from the window.

"You haven't told me what you think about what I asked; About Shiro coming today?" Sam prompted kindly when their eyes met.

Indeed, Keith hadn't given him an answer, instead requesting to give him a little time to 'let it sink in'. Which was what Keith had attempted to do, before panic tried to do with him as it pleased. But even now Keith wasn't able to properly formulate his thoughts on the matter.

Keith's embarrassment was not going to be rubbed off his neck by his hand. Neither was it going to be ignored by focusing on the sketchbook on his lap. Both things certainly helped though.

"I'm sorry … I have a lot in my mind." Keith said meekly.

The Doctor didn't take offense and dismissed it, "Don't worry. Are there any particular concerns? Feel free to tell me." Sam sat there opening the way for Keith to lay out whatever was in his mind.

That was the issue. Concerns, there were a few. But where to start, was the question. The most prominent concern was him not knowing how to engage with the individual. Yes Keith had been informed of this happening beforehand, but their first meeting had been bizarre. Intriguing for some maybe, but Keith wasn't sure if he'd use that word. Shiro had seemed nice enough, but the incident that followed was too out of the ordinary for Keith to wrap his head around. And Keith did not like things that he couldn't put a name to. Neither did he like being put on the spot as he had been, and the assumptions that were made afterwards.

"What happened last time … I don't know exactly _what_ happened but … it was very creepy." Keith frowned at his lap, organizing his thoughts and the feelings they provoked. "I won't lie, I didn't feel comfortable with anything that happened. And I really don't understand what it is that you and Shiro are trying to figure out. I'm just sick, and I've come to terms with that. Mostly, at least. But at this point, trying something new shouldn't hurt, right?"

Keith wasn't sure about that last statement and he was sure Sam could tell by the tautness of his voice alone. But Keith supposed that he had to start somewhere, his gut was telling him so and he always listened to his gut.

"I'm sure that it was very strange for you Keith and your feelings are justifiable. I had a talk with Shiro, and I suggested that after you and I are done the two of you could have a one-on-one. That way you two can start to know each other better and perhaps you'd feel less overwhelmed?"

To Keith it was more like picking a lesser of two evils.

On one hand, Sam was right, even if he didn't know Shiro, having Sam in the room with them too could make Keith feel blocked. Mostly because he didn't want Sam to witness how socially awkward he was.

On the other hand, he didn't know Shiro. He didn't know what to expect, or how to act, Heck, Keith wasn't even sure what he and Shiro were supposed to do; what was the point if Keith wasn't going to talk to Shiro about his issues the same way he did with Sam. Surely no one was expecting that. Sam was his Doctor, Shiro wasn't.

Perhaps the second option unnerved Keith more, but it wasn't by much. He pretended not to care by shrugging.

"I mean, if you think it helps, I guess?" Keith mumbled while picking at his black gloves.

"Yes, I think it could help, greatly. I still need to make sure that you are comfortable and willing Keith. We _are_ trying something a little different for your treatment."

Comfortable, no. Willing … a little more likely. Keith gave a more firm answer by nodding. Sam stared at him for a little bit afterwards, but he accepted the answer.

"Alright." Sam affirmed as he arranged some papers under his notepad. Keith sensed that Sam was about to open their session, but before that could happen there was something Keith wanted to know.

"Can I ask though: What exactly are me and this Shiro guy going to do? I mean, I know you both think that I have some … 'powers'. But I'd really like to know _exactly_ what I'm getting myself into."

Seemed like Keith's skepticism amused Sam a little bit as the latter huffed out a small laugh. "I know that you don't believe in any of that, and I don't demand you to. All I ask is for you is to please trust me and eventually, hopefully, Shiro. One way or another, I think Shiro can help."

"Yes. But why? He's just a writer, right?" Because it went without saying that Keith, or anyone, would not expect a writer to help a person going to therapy. Keith's doubt taking shape in his raised eyebrow and in his slouched posture and crossed arms.

"That he is." Sam agreed but there was a following pause that told Keith there was more in his mind. For a moment Keith did consider asking him, but he didn't want to be intrusive. Then after a moment Sam added, "But there is more to him just as there is more to you."

For reasons unknown that answer shook Keith into a small silence, unsure how to take it and if he should have been worried. Since Keith was put in a little stupor Sam continued to try and appease Keith's worries.

"As to what Shiro will do exactly, I am afraid I am not sure since that's out of my expertise. But I can assure you this: there's nothing to worry about with Shiro. He is kind and a very smart man, and I think that the two of you can become good friends if you'd like."

For the moment Keith satisfied himself with that. He wasn't entirely at ease, but he did trust Sam, and by extent Pidge. Also if Shiro was indeed raised in the Holt household then Keith hoped that Shiro was as good as everyone, even Lance and Hunk, claimed he was.

Although, it was funny to Keith that for Shiro to be Pidge's surrogate brother, he has never really met the guy in an entire year. Keith supposed that was what happened when he was such an introvert …

"If you don't have any more questions, are you ready to begin?" Sam's casual, friendly voice drew him back to the pending conversation at hand.

"Ah, yeah. I think I'm good for the moment." Keith took a breath and gathered himself, setting thoughts of Shiro aside. For the time being.

"Very well. So to begin, you seem very thoughtful today. What would you like to talk about first?" Sam smiled at him and got comfortable in his own chair. That signaled to Keith that their session had officially begun.

No matter that Keith has been in therapy for quite some time, but even then he struggled to start a conversation. There were a few things he wanted to talk about, he just wasn't sure where to start. Nonetheless, Keith felt that he had the urge to talk more than he normally did, therefore took another breath, sat forward while rubbing his hands together, and talked.

"Well. It's been four days since our last session … So … there's really not _that_ much to report … I had just one freaky hallucination the day after. But … I think I've managed to sleep better. There's been … no nightmares." Again the dread of what was surely to come breathed down his neck. Focusing on his and Sam's conversation was his only saving grace.

The way Sam stared at him after that answer told Keith that the man was reading him, analyzing his mannerisms: How he sat, the way his face crinkled in worry; how his thumb rubbed the pointer finger's knuckle in the habit he has never been able to shake off.

"You seem bothered by that. Is there something that is worrying you?" Sam frowned a little, looking like he was concerned.

Keith breathed out sharply through his nose, not entirely sure how to explain himself. He sat back on the couch again and put his hands between his legs then rubbed them together. "I'm not sure how to explain it. I know I should take it as a good thing. But I feel like … I should be scared." And the truth was that he was.

"Scared? Of what and why?"

"Because every time that I go without having nightmares, or sleep paralysis, or whatever, it _always_ comes back to bite me in the ass ten times worse. You know how people say that there's a 'calm before the storm'? Yea, this is exactly what it feels like. Not having nightmares for a while is _never_ a good thing." Keith's chest constricted in frustration and fear as he rambled.

"Right. That must be stressful. But don't you think it's better to just enjoy the calm, this moment of peace. Life is full of ups and downs after all." Sam tilted his head at him, that frown of worry still on his face.

Keith recognized that there was truth and wisdom in those words. With the sort of rotten luck he has had it was hard to adopt that mentality, even though he wished he could. He shrugged a shoulder and murmured without meeting Sam's eyes, "I guess. It's what always happens ..."

Sam took a breath deep enough for it to be visible, but it wasn't out of exasperation. He took some quick notes. Keith patiently waited for him to do so.

"You know there's this thing called 'self-fulfilling prophecy'. It's when, if you don't know, an individual keeps expecting for the things around them to go wrong. To a point where said individual might unconsciously end up sabotaging themselves." Sam offered the explanation for Keith to think on. Keith partly thought of it as advice as well.

"So you think that I'm doing that? Sabotaging myself?" Wouldn't that be something. Though Keith has already been told about his self destructive tendencies. Didn't mean that he wouldn't be any less annoyed or frustrated with himself because of it.

"Not on purpose. You keep convincing yourself that everything will go wrong. But what if this time it will be different? It's been three days since your last incident, yes? And from what we've recorded from previous sessions this has been the longest you've gone without any occurrences consecutively. And I can already see some small changes in you."

Keith looked at him with doubt and Sam understood him enough for Keith not to have to voice his question.

"You _do_ look much more rested and much more alert and even talkative than you usually are. Whatever you did to achieve it, perhaps you should take note and repeat it." Sam's tone was lighthearted, but he did mean the advice, Keith could see.

"I … I don't think I've really done anything different …" Keith couldn't argue with the observation. Yet he briefly paused to really think about, and make sure that he was certain of that answer. But he came up with nothing. "Not significant anyways. Unless brushing your teeth with a different toothpaste does anything."

Keith had brought up the little detail as a sarcastic comment, to which Sam laughed softly and shook his head. Sam then proceeded to say, "Keith, I've told you before that even the smallest of things, the smallest changes to a routine, can have an impact. So. You really don't know, or are you sure it's just that you brushed your teeth with a different toothpaste, hm?"

Sometimes Sam was too good at making Keith analyse himself. With that knowing little smile of his, the man knew exactly how to turn Keith's sarcastic remarks against him. Often in a way that made Keith really think. Keith gave credit where credit was due and he guessed that Sam was good because of years of experience. And also because he was father to the gremlin known as Katie Holt, otherwise known as Pidge.

What was he supposed to answer, Keith wondered. There was one other little thing in his mind that could have impacted his routine. But he didn't deem it significant enough to have caused him to sleep better, or chase away his nightmares. 'Could it', would be the question that was going to haunt his mind for the rest of the afternoon.

Sam's smile broadened a little as he nodded to himself and quickly jotted down some more notes. "When you find the answer, I hope you tell me. But whatever it is that you are doing, or whatever is happening, I hope it repeats. You do look better, and that makes me very glad."

Keith was very surprised by the compliment. Even though he considered that he shouldn't have, if he went by the fact that: he woke up with a serious case of the pillow head, the bags under his eyes were significantly less pronounced, and he did feel more rested. Of course, he was far from entirely okay, and he had a long way to go. Prior to this occasion he couldn't remember the last time he had a full night worth of _proper_ sleep.

Then Sam continued, "So, not only you feel a bit more fresh today, so to speak, it's safe to assume that this has helped more at work as well?"

While the answer to Sam's previous question and the subsequent compliment was uplifting, having to think about what happened the other day put a damper in Keith's spirit. It soured his expression and he crossed his arms over his chest as he let out a small scoff.

"One would think. But as my luck would have it, I had a very bad day the other day, in general." Keith knew that he could just continue with his story, but he felt ashamed about what happened to him and he looked at Sam. He was waiting for Sam to tell him to proceed, which Sam did, but with his calm and encouraging expression rather than with words or questions.

"Like I mentioned earlier I … saw some things. _Those_ kinds of things, and I hadn't slept at all the night before. But, you know, when is that new? Then at the station. Kolivan and I had one of our 'riveting' talks … "

"Did something happen?" Concerned again Sam prodded. He crossed one of his legs over the other and entwined his hands over his notepad on his lap.

"Not … exactly." Keith stopped as discomfort made him grapple with the correct words he thought he could use. The more Keith thought about it, the more ashamed Keith felt. "It was stupid … I was just angry and I lashed out at him ..."

"Angry? Why did you get angry at him?" Sam wasn't judging which Keith appreciated. Even so, it was shameful in Keith's mind.

In the last three days Keith has recognized that it had been a petty argument. Petty from his part. It was difficult to admit that he couldn't control his anger and frustrations at times, and that he lashed out at the wrong things. Or the wrong people.

"He wanted to talk about something I didn't want to." Keith started, his thumb started to rub its neighboring finger in that familiar anxious tick he had.

"And what was that?" Sam inquired patiently once more.

"He wanted me to tell him about our last session. He questioned me about whether or not these therapies are really helping me or not. He questioned me about -" Keith cut himself off when he realized he was starting an agitated ramble. And he was unsure he wanted Sam to know that Kolivan doubted his abilities as a therapist, and that he was especially skeptical about Shiro's sudden appearance. Keith finished his sentence anyways, even if he mumbled, "Shiro … he questioned me about Shiro."

Realization flashed in Sam's eyes whilst he nodded. Before addressing Keith's answer he tapped his pen several times, "So he's worried about you meeting a stranger in our appointments. Which would be normal given that these are supposed to be private, so I can understand his concern if that's the case. Which I'm sure it is. That should tell you that he really does worry about you, yet, why does it make you so angry when he asks, Keith?" Sam looked at him sadly, though Keith didn't know if that empathy was for him, or for Kolivan.

"Because it's none of his damned business! He didn't seem so keen while I was being tormented as a kid! Why should he care now?" The exasperation was becoming too much to handle, Keith succumbed to the urge of letting it go somehow. After standing up abruptly when he replied, he resorted to pace about in intervals around the loveseat.

Sam remained seated and watched him pace about for a moment. "So you believe that he doesn't really worry?"

"No! … maybe …" At the lack of an answer he was satisfied with, Keith clicked his teeth and paced some more before he stopped again. He hoped that if he walked, his thoughts would flow, then he would get a clear answer. Unfortunately, he got nothing. "I don't know!"

Sam pulled his lips to one side, the tapping of his pen announcing that his thoughts were arranging themselves. "This doubt that you have. Where do you think it comes from? Is it because of the time you spent in foster care, you blame him for not taking you out sooner?"

There was a long stretch of silence before Keith admitted the truth he hated admitting, "Yes … I know I shouldn't blame him, that he didn't leave me there on purpose … But I can't …" Keith trailed off again into a deep sigh. The anger that was bubbling under his skin was almost dizzying. Enough for him to plop back on the sofa with his face in a hand.

"You can't what, Keith?" The prompting annoyed Keith because he himself wanted to know what was going on in his own head. It was excruciatingly frustrating to not understand himself. And Sam was just doing his job, questions were necessary to gain insight to the mess inside himself.

"I can't stop being angry at him. I'm so … So! … So _resentful!_ " Keith spat the word with clear distaste towards the ugly feeling, making his rising anger clear. "I don't know why. It's been _years_ , I should be over it!"

Sam, calm but with unfaltering wisdom attempted to appease the storm within Keith. It partially worked. "Perhaps. But only if you have had time to heal properly. It's natural to be angry, even towards loved ones. You shouldn't fight your feelings Keith. It's okay to let them flow so they can be carried away. Otherwise, if they stay stagnant, they will just fester your wounds."

"But it's not right, or fair … I don't like feeling like this." A humble admission that covered a plea for guidance. Keith was close to imploring with the way he looked at Sam.

"I'm inclined to agree, it isn't fair. Dealing with these kinds of feelings is not easy, but you being here proves that you are willing to change that. The anger, and all of those ugly feelings will pass, that's what I'm here for, to help you with that."

"But Kolivan feels like I'm not improving at all … and most of the time … I can't help but feel the same way … But not because of you, because of me." Barely had Keith finished talking when Sam shook his head.

"Stop right there. Let me tell you, that you _are_ improving Keith. Just months ago you would barely even speak to me, and you often came here like you were in a daze. And today you've just told me that you had three days worth of proper rest; you're more alert and engaging. How can you _not_ call that progress?"

Yet again Sam's words made Keith analyze himself. Has he really shown significant enough changes, he seriously doubted it. He was still often reluctant to talk, and there were many times that he felt like he was lost within his own head. This current 'improvement' he was supposed to be delighting in was only temporary anyways. He still indulged the Doctor and tried to agree.

"I guess …"

Sam's following smile was small, it even looked sad for a moment, yet there was kindness and understanding in his eyes. "Everything's a process, and you can't expect a full change in just the blink of an eye. You have to keep working towards it. Like I told you earlier: don't disregard even the smallest of changes, as they still have impact. And, if you and your uncle are worried about your progress, then you are more than welcome to invite your uncle to come speak to me. We can even have a chat, all three of us, and hopefully, put his mind at ease."

That idea Keith wasn't too fond of as he felt that he really wasn't ready to open this part of himself to Kolivan. It was already a miracle in and of itself that he was talking to Sam. And even then his chats with Sam have only occurred the last couple of months, so there was much Sam still didn't know.

"I'll … have to think about it." Keith admitted as he curled into himself a little more.

"Would you rather it was just between myself and your uncle?"

"No! I don't want him to know," Keith shouted snapped as an automatic reaction he didn't think about. He was startled at himself and looked away from Sam in shame, "I-I didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry."

"Speak your mind, Keith, I won't be offended."

Keith counted himself lucky for the patience Sam showed him. "I'm … I'm just not okay with him talking about ... this, my therapy. Not yet. It's private."

"That's fine, it's understandable. You want to keep your privacy so I won't bring it up anymore. But, just so you know, I would not reveal any details you've told me in these sessions. No notes, no folders, I'd not repeat a word of what you've told me. We'd just discuss my ability to help you, I'd put his mind at ease if I could. Just in case you'd like to keep that in mind." Sam assured him.

"Okay ... Thank you. But for the moment, I'd still rather not." Keith frowned his hands, particularly at the fading bruise around his wrist.

"Alright then, back to the session. I'd recommend that you take the time to converse with him once you are at peace with him. And when you are more willing to let your emotions flow. It can start with casual outings so that you build new and positive feelings towards your uncle. Don't talk about what happened, at least not immediately. Just, talk about other things that you'd feel comfortable sharing with him. Eventually, you might find it not so hard to open up about the hurt you feel. I'm sure he will be glad to spend time with you." Sam smiled, sounding so sure and there was a part of Keith that really wanted to believe him. It was hard to.

"He has had a very funny way of showing it." Keith grumbled driven by the complicated feelings that usually accompanied Kolivan.

"Not everyone is well versed on expressing their thoughts and/or feelings; or they have particular ways of showing them. I know things happened in the past, things that you still resent because they hurt you."

Keith's eyes were stinging. By God did he hate it and looked everywhere to prevent the dam from breaking. He never cried during therapy, neither did he cry in front of anyone else. He felt powerless and weak enough whenever his personal demons brought him to his knees. No need to double down on such fragility.

Sometimes Sam encouraged him to let it all out, which, Keith never did, not meaningfully. Other times, Sam granted him a little space and allowed Keith to choose how to deal with himself. Thankfully at the moment the latter happened with Sam standing up and sauntering towards a small fridge that was on a corner behind the desk. From said fridge Sam produced a water bottle. On his way back he gave it to Keith.

Keith mumbled his thanks, having to repeat himself a second time as his voice came out too feeble to be understood. The cold water bottle had suddenly brought to his attention that he was thirsty. He didn't hesitate to twist the cap open in order to take a large swig. It was so refreshing, like the water had washed that distress down to more manageable levels. It was evident in the very large release of air Keith gave after swallowing.

"Okay." Keith sniffled and licked still dry lips. He nodded quickly a few times prior to facing Sam again. "We can continue."

"Are you sure? There's no hurry."

"Yea. It's okay." It was a whisper but Keith nodded again to encourage the continuation of their chat.

"Alrighty. Just let me know if you need a break." Sam insisted, Keith nodded once more. Nonetheless grateful for the Doctor's understanding. "Now, you confirmed that you had a good night's sleep. Tell me, how is that making you feel?"

Keith huffed as he leant forward again and moved the bottle around to see the water move. "It's nice to walk around without feeling like a zombie for a change."

Sam's lips quirked up just a bit from one corner, apparently a little amused by Keith's snark. "That's a good thing then. Are you sure you want to continue?"

"Yeah we can continue." Keith reassured him. There was a smidgen of annoyance at the insistence because it made him feel too fragile. He ignored it, telling himself that he should be grateful for Sam's concern.

"Just wanted to make sure. Let's proceed then."

* * *

The rest of the session went relatively smoothly. Keith told Sam more about the supposed apparition he encountered on the street three days ago. He told him about the siren on the firetruck going crazy too and how poor Thace and Ulaz had looked so spooked. Keith also talked about how Pidge and Hunk were more watchful over him thanks to the freak out he had days prior; and how Lance was more careful around since then. Though Lance still teased and kept being Lance, Keith noted that he and the others were acting a little differently towards him. And that Keith wasn't sure how to feel about that. Sam took notes on that and reminded Keith that much like Kolivan, his friends were just trying to understand him. And that as Keith progressed things would change and that he could always talk to them too.

Perhaps in another occasion he would, Keith thought. Again, he was not ready to reveal certain parts of himself just yet.

When their session was deemed finished it was around two minutes to four 'o clock, and Keith was a little surprised by their punctuality.

Sam neatly packed away the notes and smiled at him, "Good work today Keith. How do you feel?"

Keith sipped the last of his water bottle then answered, "Being honest, a little tired?"

Sam nodded while chuckling softly, "Of course. We did talk a lot today, much more than I expected, which is very good. But you're not too tired to speak to Shiro I hope?"

Keith thought about it for a moment. Truth was that he felt very mentally drained and wasn't sure if he would be able to talk to Shiro. Or if he'd really have anything to share at all, for that matter. Yet Keith supposed that it was too late to go back as he assumed that Shiro must already be on his way. And it seemed like Sam felt very strongly about this. Better to listen to his Doctor, even when Keith thought it was pointless.

"No, I can do that." Keith answered as Sam, still in his chair, reached forward in offering to throw the bottle away for him. And Keith gave him the bottle.

Sam beamed, taking the bottle from him as he excitedly exclaimed, "Excellent! He should be here any-"

There was a knock at the door. Both men were startled as they looked at it

"Well, why do you look at that! Great timing! Are you ready to receive him?" He asked Keith one last time.

Keith gave the door one quick look and a small feeling of dread coiled in his chest. He nodded at Sam anyways and braced himself nervously.

"Excellent." Sam put his notepad, the papers and the empty bottle on the coffee table that was between them. Just as Sam practically jumped to his feet, there was another knock, "I'm coming."

As Sam went to receive Shiro Keith wondered if it was possible to suddenly gain the ability of becoming invisible.

He slouched back on the sofa, summoning forth his casual facade and shutting all of himself in. Although he was trying hard to keep himself in check. Meanwhile his body became a treacherous little thing as his fingers from his left hand began to move in that familiar grounding way; the fingers on his right fidgeted with the edges of his hardcover sketchbook which he had put aside earlier and now had put it on his lap once more.

Keith really hated admitting it, but he was on edge. But that wasn't exactly new, he just wasn't used to dealing with another person right after a therapy session. Sam usually granted him a down time to gather his bearings, usually letting him draw in silence to vent out the rest of his thoughts and emotions. Or if not, Keith would walk back to the apartment he shared with his friends which also helped him to wind down.

He vaguely distinguished Sam and Shiro greeting each other animatedly as the latter was invited in. The very instant Shiro entered Keith was so enticed to look but he was apprehensive. The air around was charged with invisible electricity that ran up Keith's veins and made his skin warmer. It was always so cold for Keith, wherever he went. Thus the warmth should have meant a good thing, except, Keith wanted to hide from it. Their first meeting had completely unsettled something in him, left him in a stupor. If Keith were to describe it simply he would use the image of a speeding truck crashing into a glass wall. With him being the glass that was usually an almost unbreakable stone fortress. Exhausted was too little a word to describe how he had felt afterwards.

He has tried not to think much about it since. Currently, he was afraid to look and get barreled into once more. Too bad for him, because Shiro appeared in his view with a friendly smile.

"Hey Keith." Shiro greeted.

Keith almost didn't find his voice through the sudden, uncomfortable knot in his throat. "H-Hello."

"How are you feeling today? Hopefully good." Shiro's voice was strong but bright, and his posture emanated confidence. Keith was almost envious.

"Good, yea. You?" Keith wasn't necessarily meaning to do so, but his eyes met Shiro's briefly because he felt that strange sensation when they did. He couldn't place it but what he knew for sure was that it was tingling every part of his being. Therefore Keith chose to focus his gaze on his lap as he had responded. While at the same time he tried to sound firm and casual even though he was uncertain.

"I'm doing pretty good too. Looking forward to meeting you better, actually." Shiro responded so casually that Keith was a little bit taken aback.

Unsure how to answer Keith spared a glance at Sam, embarrassingly feeling like a child. The Doctor however was occupying himself with picking up all he left on the coffee table moments ago. Keith got himself together and cleared his throat.

"Oh. Why?" Keith couldn't think of a reason as to why Shiro would. Neither could Keith understand why he voiced his doubt, like he forgot how to function. He accepted that he wasn't the best at socializing, he knew he sometimes spoke without a filter, but he didn't think he was _that_ bad.

Shiro grinned a little sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head, "I feel like we got off a bit on the wrong foot last time. So I was hoping to apologize, and that I could make it up to you."

"You … think we got off on the wrong foot?" Keith parroted while raising an eyebrow at Shiro. Wanting to apologize was not something Keith was expecting. Keith had not really felt mad at Shiro, he had actually blamed himself because he had been snappy. Having Shiro bring it up arose guilt within Keith.

Shiro chortled and Keith suspected that his reaction was the reason, "And you don't think we did?"

"I didn't really see it like that … But, if that's the case, I'm sorry too? For snapping at you?" Eloquence was escaping Keith at the moment. It was still better than nothing.

"It's ok, you were stressed and might've pushed you a little, so I deserved it." Shiro insisted in an easy-going way but still managed to not come across as forcing himself onto Keith.

"I see that you two already forgot that I'm still here." Sam teased, and Keith felt bad because for a moment he actually did.

"No we didn't uncle Sam." Shiro said, seemingly looking like he felt bad about it too. But Sam stopped him.

"It's okay Shiro. You're about to take over for me for the rest of the session anyways. I just want to know what do you plan on doing?"

Shiro grimaced and idly scratched his chin, "To be honest I'm not sure?"

Sam looked at Shiro unamused, and it was one of the very few times Keith saw Sam being sardonic. "You had three days to plan, and you didn't think of anything?"

Again Shiro looked sheepish as he shrugged, "I might've gotten a little caught up with work …"

"Distracted. I think the word you're looking for is distracted. And why am I not surprised." Sam shook his head at him.

Shiro couldn't do much other than smile and rub his neck in what was beginning to look like a habit. "It's not too late to plan though. So … let's see … hmm .."

Shiro pulled his lips to one side and looked at Keith with his head slightly tilted to one side.

Keith had been keeping his gaze down at the sketchbook on his lap, only vaguely listening to Sam and Shiro's exchange. Feeling Shiro's stare on him caused Keith to twitch a little on the spot. He looked at Shiro's face without having to meet the pair of silver eyes directly. Keith resisted but he wanted to recoil at the unwanted attention.

"I'm sorry I'm putting you on the spot again Keith. I'm just trying to figure something out …" It was as if Shiro perceived his unease.

Keith was trying not to pay attention to the musing look that the man was giving him. Even when Keith was tempted to avoid Shiro's gaze, he found he couldn't. He was halfway through figuring out why that was when Shiro's lips turned up slightly at the corners. In any other moment, Keith would've taken that as Shiro mocking him. But not this time. Not with this peculiar man named Shiro.

"You love drawing, right?" Shiro asked and Keith for a brief moment didn't think Shiro was talking to him. His brows slightly furrowed like they were a question themselves. Shiro provided an answer, "There's a park nearby. Would you like to go? It'd be a great place to seek out your muses."

Even Sam looked surprised at Shiro's sudden offer. This was only the second time Keith has seen this man. And while Keith wasn't compelled to be much around strangers. It was strange how Keith was so inclined to say yes. But he looked at Sam first in hopes of getting some advice. Shiro too looked at the Doctor seemingly looking for the same reassurance.

"Do you think it's wise uncle?" Shiro asked, confirming the suspicion Keith was not expecting to become true. Because, how could Shiro, a stranger, be so considerate of Keith when so many people before have not been. Even those who were close to him sometimes didn't understand him, though they tried their best and didn't have ill intentions. Such understanding was rarely achieved. Keith really appreciated it.

And it looked like Sam was caught a little by surprise as well. He stammered and while taking off his eyeglasses to clean them he said, "I- well, I think that's actually not a bad idea. Fresh air helps clear the mind, yes? Perhaps being in a different environment could help with some of that stress." He caressed his beard as he turned to Keith and with a smile he said, "And I did say I would like for you to try something a little different for this part of the session. That of course, doesn't mean that you _have_ to go, Keith."

One didn't need to look too hard to notice that Keith was conflicted. He wasn't trying too hard to hide it as uncertainty came too naturally to him.

"Yes Keith, don't feel obligated. Uncle Sam showed me some of your drawings and I really think they're great! So I figured that you would like the park for some sketching." Shiro explained with an undertone of encouragement.

Keith's fingers twitched for the feeling of his pencil, his ears craved the sound of paper being scratched, and his nose could already perceive the smell of graphite. That was answer enough.

"Yeah. Sure, I'll go." Once again Keith tried to sound confident, betraying his feelings. But he was also curious about what Shiro would talk about. If they talked at all.

He was waiting for Shiro to push onto him his ideas and try to convince him that he was wrong; that somehow he had powers that apparently were driving him insane. Keith granted the benefit of doubt. There was no way he would refuse a chance to draw, he really needed to wind down after all.

With Keith's seal of approval Sam patted them both on the back and wished them to have a good time. Keith stood and headed out the door first. He hoped that he wouldn't regret the decision of interacting with who so far seemed like a strange man.

* * *

They made their way over to the park on foot since it wasn't far away. The conversation they had in the way there was minimal. And it was mostly from Shiro's part since Keith wasn't a good conversationalist. Didn't mean that Keith didn't try his best to indulge Shiro, despite the dread he was feeling towards any type of subject that could be brought up. Thankfully Shiro hadn't been invasive, careful but friendly, the impression Keith got was that Shiro was trying to make him comfortable. It was a comfort that Keith had not often had in conversation so, almost without realizing it, he felt lightly soothed by Shiro's presence. But only just, like poking the water's surface with but a toe.

They arrived at the park in a short amount of time, Keith was grateful for the walk nonetheless. The park they chose was one of the biggest in all of Marmora city. It had a wide variety of flora both endemic and foreign. A large lake was the very heart of the park and perhaps the most popular spot. So Shiro suggested that they avoided that area in favor of a more peaceful side of the park.

The park was silent and peaceful for the most part. There weren't as many people despite the sunny but breezy afternoon. Some people were jogging or walking by themselves. Or with their dogs here and there, while others just sat on a blanket under a tree chatting or having picnics. Shiro and Keith picked a bench near some Bamboo trees that played a soft tune orchestrated by the air. It was a nice little spot. Part of Keith felt appeased by it, but his other half still had its hackles raised.

As Keith settled into his seating he was cautiously looking at Shiro. Despite that Shiro has been nothing but polite Keith was still half expecting for Shiro to overwhelm him somehow. And he just braced himself, and waited for it as Shiro sat next to him.

"What a nice day!" Shiro exclaimed just as he gave a stretch then slouched back on the bench: his arm furthest from Keith outstretched at the back of the bench; the arm closest to Keith was put on his lap. "If I'd known that we would end up here, I would've brought Atlas."

Keith wasn't sure how to read Shiro and he was starting to get a little anxious. It showed on how he sat in a position so opposite to Shiro's: sat back, less slouched and shoulders slightly hunched; his arms were crossed and one leg perched on the bench to pin the sketchbook on his lap.

Yet the peculiar name, Atlas, made Keith curious enough to ask who was the owner of such a name. Rather than using his words Keith looked at Shiro questioningly.

It was a very small moment before Shiro noticed Keith's look. When he did, Shiro looked wide-eyed for a moment before realizing, "Oh! Sorry, I think I was speaking out loud. Atlas is my dog, she's a Golden Retriever."

That certainly picked Keith's curiosity. Not that he was going to let it show. He stomped down the enthusiasm sparkling in him. "You have a dog? Huh. That's … funny."

"Why funny?" Shiro smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.

Indeed, Keith asked the question back to himself. The answer all but popped in his head, bizarrely, "For some reason … you gave me the impression of being more of a cat person."

In a mere second Shiro went from taken aback to looking thrilled. Strangely. "And you're absolutely right! But dogs come to a very close second. Plus, Atlas was a little surprise gift from a very dear friend. But yea, I also have a cat and his name is Sendak."

"Sendak?" Keith tested the name caring to wonder how Shiro came up with it.

"Yea, I'd bring him over for you to meet him sometime but … he's … a real piece of work." Shiro's face scrunched up a little as he said that. It had even sounded like he was a little annoyed.

Sounded like Sendak was a very naughty cat. And that was a pretty amusing thought.

Keith fought his smile and what trace of it escaped he tried to hide. Part of that smile was also due to Keith coming very, very close to asking Shiro to bring Atlas so that he could meet her instead. The words were bitten back before they could take shape. Other than that, Keith wasn't sure what else to say. Therefore he really hoped that Shiro wasn't expecting him to lead the conversation. Otherwise it was going to be a long, awkward afternoon.

That was until Shiro hummed softly, took off his eyeglasses and hung them on his shirt. His fingers drummed on his thighs softly which served to put Keith more on edge. Keith persevered in the name of his pride.

"Uh, so … not to sound like I'm tooting my own horn, but I usually don't feel so at a loss on how to approach people. Sorry if this is awkward." Shiro said finally and stopped the drumming on his leg.

"It's okay. It's not like I would fare any better." Keith had to admit that he was surprised at himself; that he would be blunt and admit something he saw as a flaw in front of a person he didn't know yet.

"It's alright. I was the one who dragged you out here, so it's on me." There was a brief pause before Shiro looked from ahead of himself to Keith. "Do you have any questions for me? Like, is there anything you would like to know in specific? I know a bit about you from uncle Sam, so I think it's only fair you get the same chance and we can be even."

Keith had been expecting, hoping, that Shiro took the rails of the conversation. Instead, once more it looked like Shiro was offering him to control the conversation; Shiro was giving him the option of what to say, and how much he wanted to share. Despite his reluctance to do so the offering was … nice.

"It's a start ..." Keith intended to come off as casual. Rather than, he chewed on his bottom lip and briefly caressed his one knuckle like he always did, worried that he could accidentally pry too much, or offend Shiro somehow. He tried not to think of it and pretended he was talking to Sam, or Pidge.

When in doubt, just follow your gut was Keith's motto. "So … What … What do you do for a living? Just write? If it's okay to ask, that is …"

Shiro's eyes lit up and his smile did make Keith feel like he didn't have to keep his defenses up so high. So he reassured himself to lower them. At least just enough for him to 'test the waters', just as Shiro had done earlier.

"Mostly write, yes. But I also investigate ghosts and some stranger things from time to time. Mostly though, I work with people, helping those who think they're like me."

Keith paused to think, to feel the flow of the conversation. That's how Shiro's choice of words made him wonder, "When you say 'like you', you mean …?"

"An extrasensorial, yes. Thanks to my experience, I've earned a bit of a reputation as someone who can identify other people's gifts, or abilities."

Keith wasn't sure whether he was buying it or not, and for some reason his hand started itching. The tingly and slightly irritating sensation right under his skin, and he absently tried rubbing it away. "Huh … really? Have you been doing this for a long time?"

For some reason that caused Shiro to fight a smile to no avail since he ended up chuckling. Strange man. And Keith's thoughts were apparent on his face as Shiro answered.

"I'm sorry, just reminded me of something. To answer your question, yes, I have been doing this for a long time. Or at least, I've been in tune with my abilities for as long as I can remember." Shiro threw his head back in a gesture that looked like he was thinking more things.

Keith widened his eyes at that. He has been figuring that Shiro has been at it for a long time. 'For as long as he could remember' was not the amount of time Keith had been expecting.

"Oh yeah. There was even a time where Matt, Pidge and I fancied ourselves 'Professional Paranormal Investigators'." Shiro scoffed with humor and seemed to have anticipated what Keith was thinking. Most likely by Keith's expression. "And yes, just like the ones you see on TV."

Keith didn't know Shiro, knew Matt just enough, but he totally knew Pidge and for all the teasing she does to Lance, it was _very_ amusing to know that little tidbit of information. It must have shown because Shiro chortled again.

"Don't go telling her I told you about that. It was a bit of a phase." Shiro looked slightly embarrassed as he picked at the peculiar lion head pendant dangling from his neck. The purple quartz held by the lion's mouth was gorgeous.

"I think everyone has those." Funny he said that … Keith couldn't really remember what had been his own phase. It dipped his mood not being able to recall light-hearted memories like those. He encouraged Shiro to continue not only to ignore those thoughts, but also because he was curious. "So I'm guessing you were all going through your rebellious stage? "

Shiro hummed while nodding his head from side to side as if in consideration. "You could say that," he drawled, "We _did_ sneak out to go out to whatever abandoned, 'spooky', places we could find around Marmora. We had some equipment too, a lot of which was made or modified by Matt and/or Pidge. Nothing too fancy but, yeah. Matt was usually the camera man, Pidge handled equipment, and I … well, I was the 'magnet' or 'bait' for ghosts. You know, since I was the one with the 'psychic powers'."

Keith smiled a tiny bit trying to imagine the experience. "Did you ever catch anything?"

"We had a few spooky encounters … Others … not so much. Like the time we got chased and caught by the police for trespassing on private property ..." Shiro grimaced and absently rubbed his ear as if recalling something; a certain type of pain. Which Keith assumed must be the subsequent scolding they received. "That wasn't a fun night … but I think Matt still has the videos saved somewhere."

The story was cute and amusing in it's own way. Enough to force a smile out of Keith without him even noticing. But then it occurred to Keith that if all of it was real, Shiro was truly an expert and not just part of a 'gimmick' that set him apart as a known writer. Keith had to wonder … No. The things happening to him must be a result of his poor mental state … But then again Sam wouldn't have insisted on him spending time with Shiro if it was all fake ...

Amidst the conflict in his head, the following question was out before Keith could realize, "So, you said 'extrasensorials' earlier. What exactly _is_ that?"

Shiro looked like he was taken a little by surprise by the question. Not that Keith blamed him, seeing as to how he has met the subject with skepticism and even some contempt. He guessed that Shiro thought he wouldn't want to talk about that. When he recovered from the small stupor, Shiro's face turned more serious. He leaned forward and started fumbling with his pendant again.

"An extrasensorial is what we call people with capabilities to perceive things beyond the physical senses. These include Psychics, Mediums, Clairvoyants, Tarot readers, you name it. 'Extrasensorial' is more of a broad term we've chosen for ourselves since the word 'psychic' is not really a general enough term, and it has created some contempt amongst the normal public."

Keith scoffed and murmured with some biting sarcasm, "Yea no kidding. I wonder why that is …"

Whether it could be taken as an offense or not, it didn't look like Shiro took it as one. The look on his face remained neutral albeit his voice was serene.

"Hm. There have been phonies which give us a bad name, and there still are. But I can assure you, we are real. Rare, but real."

Keith scoffed again and defiant asked, "Really? Alright, so you're telling me you think I'm one of you, and that you can tell me what's wrong with me?"

Shiro remained collected and even threw in a very subtle smirk over his shoulder at him. Which actually frustrated Keith a little since he was so hellbent on proving that he was just sick and needed nothing but a lot of treatment. Keith had long since come to terms with that and didn't need some 'mumbo jumbo' to give him false hopes … he ran out of those a long time ago too.

"Actually yes. I can identify what kind of abilities you have. It's quick and simple, we could even try it right now. If you're truly willing." Shiro offered as he sat back again, all the while keeping eye contact with Keith.

Keith had to award the guy points for both guts, and confidence. "Alright. How do you do that then?"

Shiro extended his hand towards him as if offering to take his, "May I see your hand? Without your glove."

Keith twitched and flexed his fingers. The request was odd but Keith was more concerned with one thing, "You … are not gonna touch me. Are you?"

The smugness on Shiro's face softened into something more sympathetic, "No. I promise. All I will ask is for you to keep eye contact with me."

Reluctant, Keith did as Shiro told him. After he stretched his hand towards Shiro, the latter hovered his hand just above Keith's. Silence followed as the two stared into each other's eyes. At first Keith felt awkward but then it shifted into something … familiar.

"Hm. To begin with, the day we met, I already observed that you seem capable of automatic writing. Or in your case, drawing." Shiro began and paused like to grant Keith the opportunity to make questions. Keith didn't hesitate at all.

"What's that?" Keith had a very good idea as to what automatic writing was, since the name implied it. Didn't hurt to be absolutely sure.

"It's what you did when you drew my car; you picked up on what I was thinking and you drew it without a conscious intent."

"I think that was just a really strange coincidence." Keith wanted to wholeheartedly hold on to that belief because thinking otherwise was too bone-chilling. Shiro didn't refute it, continuing to stare into Keith's eyes. Keith tried to subdue his nerves and keep his defiant facade. "So what else?"

Shiro's brows crinkled just a twinge, "You can feel others' emotions. When you touch them, or they touch you … you can feel them." Shiro paused, his hand steady on the same spot while his silver eyes didn't so much as blink or flicker.

It was a little freaky especially since Keith himself was compelled not to blink either. He felt exposed and he swallowed hard. Keith had the distinct feeling that if he blinked he would interrupt whatever it was that Shiro was allegedly doing.

Keith hardly noted when his breathing was just above quicker than normal. Inexplicably it appeared like something was reaching out to him without him seeing it. There were images that were fighting to form inside his head but a fog was clouding them.

He should know those images. They were familiar, or the feelings they were evoking were. There was loneliness that was embraced by comfort. There was kindness hand in hand with understanding. He didn't know exactly what he was trying to imagine with those feelings. But a small sense of longing was blooming in him. It was getting a little hard to focus on what Shiro was telling him next but he managed his best.

"You also know things without logic or facts, you can perceive things as if they were a gut feeling, but far stronger. And you're afraid of physical contact …" At that Shiro looked down at their hands for a couple of seconds before he retrieved his. "Which to me suggests that you are also an empath and have clairsentience; you perceive and absorb others' emotions through touch, and you receive messages through their feelings. Which is you get overwhelmed and fear others touching you."

Just like if a thread had been abruptly cut Keith jerked away. His movement was so quick it made him scoot away from Shiro.

Shiro's accuracy ... It was uncanny. He couldn't find his words as his brain was too busy trying to wrap itself around what just happened. Keith held his wrist close to his chest. Frowning with an open mouth at his flexing fingers then back at Shiro was not going to procure an answer. But it was the only thing his head could process on doing.

Throughout the entire time Keith was sure he was conscious of himself. Keith perceived it differently when Shiro broke eye contact, it suddenly felt like there was a small blank in his mind. It was as if he had been in a trance and he hadn't noticed. It was so weird. While at the same time there was something at the back of his mind; vague and small, but it was like a presence.

When the freakish situation was becoming too much Keith had to stand up. He thought that he had the subconscious purpose to walk away, his sketchbook fallen to the floor without care and all. Dizziness follies the effort by swooping him off his feet. As soon as Keith stumbled Shiro automatically reached to grab him. The man caught his forearm and helped stabilize him.

Thank goodness Keith hadn't eaten since the morning because if not, he would not be a pretty sight. Maybe that was why the world was spinning all of a sudden. Lack of substance, as Hunk called it, must have his sugar levels low … yeah, that was most probably it.

"Whoa! You okay there?" Shiro asked while on his feet and supporting Keith's back with his other hand.

"Uh, yea … yeah." Keith responded as he retrieved his forearm while caressing the wrist again. The feeling of outrage wanted to pour out of him to demand answers. It was hard to concentrate to do so when he was still fighting disorientation.

"I'm sorry about that. I should have known that could happen." Shiro gently led him to sit on the bench again. Keith didn't fight him and he watched as Shiro picked up the sketchbook, dusted it off and handed it to Keith.

Keith barely paid attention to the apology, too distracted thinking about what Shiro had just told him; Because, aligned with what Shiro mentioned a few seconds ago, Keith was glad that he was wearing the sleeves of his jacket down. And there was no way Shiro could possibly know that. Only Pidge and Sam knew about it: Pidge knew because she figured it out, and Sam only knew because he was Keith's therapist … Sam wouldn't reveal such personal details about his condition. Or so Keith hoped.

With most of the dizziness dissipated, there was more room for panic. "How do you know that? You shouldn't know that. Did Doctor Holt tell you?! Or Pidge?!"

Shiro looked regretful as he too retook his seat. "No. Neither of them ever disclose information like that. I read everything from you Keith, I picked up pieces of information and I just put two and two together."

Bullshit was the first word that blared in his mind. He found himself incapable of snapping like that at Shiro again. The first time he hadn't known Shiro at all, and he was sleep deprived, and scared, and angry. Today was different. He was seeing more glimpses of Shiro and the man was being nothing but patient. Also Keith was in a much calmer mindset, for his standards. He did scowl at him and his chest was beginning to heave.

He had no one to blame but himself for it, as he was the one who pushed. He needed to suck it up if he wanted answers.

"Ok. So let's say I believe you. Can it be stopped?" Keith asked once he felt level enough.

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck and seemed to consider the answer for a moment. "Depends on what exactly it is you want stopped."

" _Everything_." Keith barely let the man finish before giving Shiro his answer, his expression pinched into a deeper frown. His voice sounded rough, but there was no denying the plea hidden deep beneath.

Shiro hummed very softly while pulling his lips to a side and caressed his chin. It was clear by Shiro's expression that Keith wasn't going to like the answer.

"You can't really stop it all Keith." Shiro frowned back while his tone sounded apologetic.

The effect it had on Keith was opposite to what was probably intended by Shiro. Keith was irked but he held it in as Shiro continued to explain.

"You'd be blocking a part of yourself that's akin to your senses. It's like when you close your eyes, eventually your body will want to open them, but you fight your body to keep them closed. This leads to strain, that then leads to unnatural amounts of stress and well … It'll drive you mad."

Keith scoffed, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I _am_ already mad."

"No Keith. No you are not. I for one don't believe that. Neither does Sam, it's why he called me to help." Shiro said firmly but without bite in his tone. For a moment it gave off the impression that it was as if it struck a nerve on a personal level.

To reply, Keith threw his head back in a humorless chuckle, "Right. That's really comforting coming from someone that believes in psychics and claims to be one."

To Keith's surprise Shiro didn't snap back at him, or got angry, or even offended. The firmness Keith perceived was gone with a chuckle. "I can't blame you for your skepticism, and I suppose you got me there. But believe me, I don't see madness in you. You just can't give up on yourself Keith."

The last sentence was like a heavy stone was wrapped to his insides to then be dropped in the ocean. The depths of disappointment crushed him into the reminder that he has already given up on himself. Exactly when, Keith couldn't recall. He didn't want to voice that however. Because there was a side of him that despaired at the feeling of failure.

He heard Shiro sigh softly beside him and Keith thought that was going to be the end of it. That Shiro would say no more, they would go back to Sam, and Keith would be written off as a lost cause; tied forever to be tormented by his own head and having to rely on therapy to unwrap the mess up there, until Sam too eventually tired.

But then, "Listen. We've barely met, and I'm sorry if this is weird or too straightforward, but I see much in you Keith. And I'm willing to help you, I _want_ to help you. I will never give up on you if you are willing to give me that chance; willing to give _yourself_ that chance."

The honesty that Keith felt from those words were like a shock that made his heart leap. Many things he hadn't expected from Shiro. This was by far the most shocking one. He let it show on his face when he looked at Shiro. Keith may have been no psychic, contrary to what Sam and Shiro believed, but he did trust his gut a lot more than the average person. Keith made use of said instincts as he searched the pair of silver eyes in front of him: they were serene, they didn't falter, and they had a certain intensity to them that forced Keith to look away. His chest was suddenly too tight and the skeptic in him suddenly didn't know what to say.

Keith was not ready. Keith was not _used_ to such kindness from strangers.

In a flight or fight type of reaction, Keith settled on not facing Shiro's offer and changed the focus of the conversation off of himself.

"S-so-so hypothetically, if you can't get rid of these 'abilities', what _can_ you do?" Keith was still shaken, his heart was still beating a little fast with nerves. He masked it with nonchalance. As much as he could manage.

Yet again Shiro proved himself too considerate to be real when instead of addressing Keith avoiding an official answer, instead let Keith get away with it. Even when Shiro looked let down.

"The most you can do, at least to start, is to meditate."

"Meditate? What good would that really do?" Keith questioned with a small amount of frustration in his voice, like he was getting agitated again. He reminded himself to take a breath, that Shiro was a nice guy that was trying to help. Even if he was talking about weird things and offering even weirder advice.

Shiro was taking Keith's skepticism and what could be perceived as bad attitude very calmly, unfazed and like he was used to seeing those types of reactions. Keith couldn't believe it because he supposed most people would have been offended. Then again, that should have served as the best proof of how genuine Shiro's expertise was.

"Meditation helps regular people to be at peace, to find themselves and perhaps even see the things around them clearer. For people like us is all of that, _and_ a crucial element as it helps us be in control of our abilities. Instead of _them_ controlling _us_. It also helps us find better outlets to channel our excess energy so it doesn't overwhelm us."

The strange 'thing' in his mind was suddenly a little more present, and like it was starting to be more around him. It prompted Keith to hold his arms in an urge to protect himself. No doubt that Shiro's explanation was not to scold Keith or patronize him. There was no escaping the feeling of guilt in spite of that fact.

'Better outlets' Shiro said. Keith was in dire need of a way to channel his frustrations, which they would be, other than drowning them in the burning waves of firewater.

"I-I have outlets …" Keith's defense came out meek. He cleared his throat in hopes that he wouldn't sound so pathetic. He was already embarrassed enough. "I mean, I draw. And Doctor Holt says that's one of my outlets …"

Shiro regarded him at that, looked at him with thoughtful and solemn eyes. Almost like he knew more than he was letting out. Keith had to look down and away yet again, because he has never felt so exposed. Not even during his therapy sessions with Sam. Shiro's look made him consider his own words for a moment, and before he knew it some words slipped out of his mouth.

"But sometimes it feels like …" Keith wondered how he could put it …

"Like it's not enough." Shiro finished for him softly but surely, like he really knew what Keith was talking about.

That in turn made Keith look up at him again, hold his gaze for a moment and then finally nod. "Yeah. Not enough." Because sadly often therapy, or drawing, the company of loved ones, or just about everything else failed him.

And that was when the devil inside the glass bottle would take Keith's feeble will, and make him submit to it's whim. Keith cringed at the thought and loathed to imagine how helpless and weak he must look when it happens.

"I've been there before. But I sense that I still haven't convinced you enough. So, why don't we give meditation a little try?"

"You mean right here? Right now?"

Shiro shrugged a shoulder, "I don't see why not? Unless of course you wish to go back already. It's a lot to take in, so we can always try it next time?"

Keith thought about it. It was true that he was feeling tired ever since he finished with Sam earlier. In addition his mind was trying to process all of the information he has been given so far. Let alone the fact that a turmoil of conflicting truths seemed to be forming within him.

Most would have probably called it a day, would have taken the time to think on it, absorb, diggest it, then start fresh. Keith Kogane though was often one to twist his own arm. His reasoning for it would be that there was a deep seethed need to understand what was wrong with him. A need he often played down.

"What exactly do I have to do? Do I have to sit down and make those weird noises?" Right after Keith asked he wondered if he was going to regret it; he questioned why he always had to try and bite more than he could chew. And he actually would be very embarrassed if he would have to indeed sit down, in the middle of a park, and make those strange sounds some people made when meditating …

Shiro laughed a little then shook his head, "Not exactly. I mean, you _could_ do that. But I believe I have a method that might just work much better for you. May I have a paper?" Shiro asked him while stretching his hand towards him again.

Keith couldn't imagine why Shiro would need a paper to meditate. But there was one way to find out and he was compelled to do so. However, to tear a paper from his sketchbook was like a crime to Keith; like he was committing a major offense, or worse yet, like he was giving a part of himself. Lending Shiro his sketchbook felt like a more acceptable course of action, so he did just that.

Shiro smiled more broadly and thanked him, proceeding to sit in a relaxed posture, then sketch.

Not only a writer, but Shiro could draw too, Keith wondered. Curiosity getting the best of him, Keith craned his neck a little as he tried to peek in order to see what Shiro was sketching. With discretion, of course.

"You can either do this in silence, or while listening to music, and whether you are indoors or outdoors. The key here is that you focus on yourself, and relax. Breathe there is nothing more important than you and the pencil and this moment." Shiro proceeded to explain, his tone as smooth as the movements of his wrist.

Keith's eyes followed the movement around. He pictured what Shiro was telling him: having very soft background noise, any kind; just losing himself in those strokes all the while forgetting that the rest of the world just melted into nothing. The notion alone was already making Keith feel lighter. He usually drew under stress, in bouts of panic, and while it sometimes made him feel better he didn't really … enjoy it. Drawing has become more of a need rather than something he solely did out of passion.

Shiro suddenly let out a little noise as he stretched out his arms to admire what was apparently a work of art. Keith was impressed that he had finished so quickly, he was actually excited to see what Shiro made. At that same moment Shiro's turned the sketchbook for Keith to see.

"See?! Like that!" Shiro exclaimed, showing pride in what he drew. Which was not what Keith was expecting.

Part of Keith was let down, but the feeling was overpowered by mirth. Stick figures. Shiro drew stick figures all over the page. Keith gave him credit for the variety of dynamic poses though. There were some other doodles of a tree, a dog, and a caricature or grumpy looking cat, which Keith assumed was the so called Sendak. Keith couldn't help snorting when he saw that one.

"Oh? Are you making fun of my art?" Shiro's feigned offense with a frown and everything.

"I'm sorry. It's just that … you were drawing, and," Keith gestured to the page, " _this_ is not what I was expecting at all." Keith had to admit that the playful nature of Shiro's doodles was charming. He could almost forget his worries and the frustration that had been seething in him just moments ago.

"Well I have you know that _this_ is some of my finest work!" Keith could almost hear the 'hmph' at the end of that sentence. Trying not to laugh was becoming a bit of a challenge.

But Keith would have a liar if he hadn't let himself smile at that, as the very least. After the small show Shiro looked pleased even when his own bright expression was serene and calm. Regardless of the bizarre first impressions Shiro has been leaving on Keith, the latter found that he was more comfortable with the man than he should have been. An impressive feat not achieved so quickly by anyone Keith knew so far.

"So, all kidding aside now, you try it." Shiro handed Keith his sketchbook back.

"Wait, me? But, I've never done this before …" Keith raised an eyebrow at him as he hesitantly took his notebook back.

"It's okay. That's why I'm telling you to try it." Shiro encouraged softly, throwing in a smirk of confidence while he was at it.

Having pushed too far, or thinking that he finally lost it and that he should retract, were brief ideas that crossed Keith's mind. Regardless, Keith opened the sketchbook on the next empty page. His mind was already conjuring up ideas on what things he could project onto the paper.

"Don't think about it Keith. Remember what I told you, just focus on yourself and let it flow. Don't think, just draw." Shiro reminded softly, voice barely above a whisper, like he was setting a mood for relaxation.

Right. Overthinking. Something Keith was used to doing and he couldn't just forget so easily. Breathe, he reminded himself. Before he could proceed he looked at his peculiar companion.

"What will _you_ do in the meantime?" What met Keith's question was Shiro sitting straight with his head slightly tipped back. In a matter of seconds Shiro went from guiding him, to just sitting there in complete silence; eyes closed and face set into serenity.

"O-kay?" Keith watched him with an eyebrow raised, waiting to see if Shiro would notice his silent question. Shiro remained unmoving.

Seconds passed without any kind of response so Keith took another deep breath, shrugged and attempted what Shiro just taught him.

 _Here goes nothing._ Keith thought. Settled on the white page he began to think on what he should draw. Ideas ran thin as he wasn't sure what Shiro, and by extent Sam, wanted from him. Why were they so insistent on him having powers that couldn't possibly be real. It all was just strange coincidences, most of which must have been a part of Keith's imagining ...

'Breathe. Don't think, just draw', Shiro had said. How was he supposed to that? What did it even mean?

It was hard. Keith sat back while subtly blowing his bangs and then he looked at Shiro again. The latter was still with his eyes closed, yet somehow Keith had a feeling that there was something … different.

What did he mean by that, Keith struggled a little to describe it. The one thing that kept popping in his head was the word peace. Just looking at Shiro in such an undisturbed state made his chest felt light. For a moment Keith thought that he could fall into a trance just staring at the man. Keith leaned a little into Shiro's view and _almost_ gave into the urge to wave his hand in front of Shiro's face. What stopped him was that he wanted to try it. A strange and desperate urge surged in Keith's being and his mind was just screaming: Try it!

He was weirded out by himself, but what more did he have to lose. He was already bordering the line of turning into a nut-job, so what was one more inch closer.

Don't think, just draw, the words replayed in his head like a mantra. Another deep, long breath in which Keith threw his head back, then just relaxed. He focused on himself. On how he was the epicenter of everything around him.

The wind requested the leaves company into its susurrus. Even through the fabric of his jacket the bodiless chill that always shadowed him tried to reach, but under the soft glow of the sun it was so unlike the cold of his nightmares. His mind's eye envisaged paintings of peaceful places: A mosaic of oranges and yellows alluring into a path unknown, warm and kissed by the soft afternoon sun; or the whisper of a gentle stream dancing around rocks; a deep dark abyss glittered with stars far too many to count, and showing colors and shapes no one ever thought possible in the form of nebulas …

That last one Keith really liked. Vaguely he felt his lips quirking at the corners.

"What do you feel?" A male voice asked him, sounding a little distant, like it was part of the mindscape. Its smoothness was like a lure that prevented him from flying too far away.

"Calm." Keith answered to the voice, but there was more to it and he searched to name the feelings.

"Good. What else?" The voice asked again, like he knew what Keith was thinking and therefore was encouraging Keith.

"I … think … focused? Like breathing is easier, like there's not that many things inside my head ..." Keith felt himself smile a little, unbiddenly, "Feels good …"

"Open your eyes." The voice prompted.

Keith did so. The real world coming back into focus the more he blinked his eyes. It felt like waking up in the mornings where he had a good, normal sleep. He felt a pair of eyes on him and he looked to his side. Shiro was looking at him with a pleased smile that made Keith realize then that the voice speaking to him had been Shiro's.

It was both intriguing and freaky. Keith was much more inclined to the latter, as it was shown in his following question, "What'd just … happened?"

"You were meditating. You let go, and you put yourself in a little trance, so to speak." Shiro looked a little too amused for Keith's taste. Yet … Keith was utterly bewildered at how easy it really had been. So easy in fact, that he didn't even remember how he did it.

He was just stuck on how immediate the positive feelings were reached. And now he felt calmer than he ever has before after therapy sessions. Not to say that Sam didn't do a great job, because he did. But this … this was so different. And it was merely just a taste.

Shiro must have seen the gears turning inside Keith's head because he smiled, bordering more towards a knowing smirk. His silver eyes shifted down to the empty page Keith had settled on.

Or the page that was once empty.

Keith almost gasped at what he saw. Though very sketchy, there laid etched a side portrait of Shiro, just as Keith had seen him before going into the apparent 'trance'. Of all the things he could draw, it had to be Shiro's. He couldn't draw a tree, something abstract, or hell, even a bug.

Shiro tilted his head at it then nodded approvingly. With a very smooth voice he complemented, "I say, you really captured my best angle."

Keith's ears and cheeks heated from how mortified he was. Caught between apologizing or welcoming the complement but ultimately doing either. He just sat there, staring at the sketch while zoning out into disbelief.

Shiro snorted beside him and very lightly nudged Keith's arm to shake him out of stupefaction. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood. It's okay, it's normal. That's part of the ability of automatic writing."

"I could've just drawn a _tree._ " Keith protested more to his own self than to Shiro's, but the point still stood.

"Uh, maybe it was easier for your mind to draw the last thing it saw?" Shiro pouted in thought for a moment before he added, "Assuming that I was the last thing you looked at."

Keith bit his lower lip to hold back a groan. He wasn't going to admit that he had been staring at Shiro like he was a weirdo. Keith's silence looked like an answer enough for Shiro.

Shiro seemed to have found it pretty amusing, when on the other hand Keith went silent for a moment. Questions and more questions kept arising without answers that could appease him. A voice kept telling him that none of what's happened proved anything. But another thing within questioned if he truly believed that.

It was too much already, he was right on the border of his limit and maybe even a little over it. He felt he was in a strange headspace in which he was just floating. He didn't want to think about it, yet at the same time wanting an answer. Today was not going to be the day he got it.

"Keith?" Shiro called him back, his hand on Keith's shoulder very tentative, and concern written all over his face.

The concern was appreciated. Keith swallowed and slowly closed his sketchbook struggling on what words he could offer to Shiro.

"I'm sorry if it was too much?" Both a question and an apology from Shiro's part, to which Keith shook his head.

"I asked. You simply answered." Keith defended, though his voice was tense. He was berating himself in his own mind; telling himself that that's what he got for being so nosy.

Shiro's hand hesitantly left Keith's shoulder although his eyes stayed on Keith. A small moment of contemplation passed within the likes of which Keith sensed there was something in Shiro's mind. But the other was being cautious of upsetting him, most likely. Keith hoped that the answer he was going to provide was enough not only for Shiro's, but also for himself.

"I don't know what to think. I feel strange, but mostly, I'm just tired." Some of Keith's tension left with the admission. It wasn't enough for his body and mind to feel relieved of the exhaustion.

It was barely visible but Shiro sighed in what looked like relief. "Of course. It's been a lot for one day."

Keith hummed in agreement. Indeed it has. "Is ... it okay if we head back now?"

"Sure we can. I just thank you for allowing me this chance, and here's hoping for a next time?"

Keith's answer wasn't immediate. No matter the strangeness of it all, nor the mixed feelings from it all, there was that spark of intrigue within. Their second meeting has not been perfect, Keith could not say he was exactly comfortable yet; their encounter has not been what he expected since he actually found some level of understanding. Enjoyment too, surprisingly.

In place of just a plain 'yes', Keith attempted to lighten up, "Next time, bring your own sketchbook."

The joke surely caught Shiro off-guard since he blinked at Keith a couple of times. Proceeding to smile, Shiro replied, "Aye, aye captain."

Keith gave him a very small, tired smile while standing up. "Shall we?"

Shiro nodded and stood, and they both had a leisurely walk back to the Holts' house. Once there Sam and Colleen eagerly received them again, but they didn't ask much questions on how it went. Sam told Keith that he could save it for their next session. Keith was more than glad for it, his throat was starting to feel sore.

They had a small exchange, and just before Shiro left he generously offered Keith a ride home.

Keith claimed he didn't want to bother him, and it was the truth. Shiro kindly insisted, also making sure that Keith was comfortable with it. Awkward as it felt Keith accepted the offer. The ride home was peaceful, complimented by the pleasant piney scent of Shiro's car. Keith was almost lulled to sleep and the soft music that wafted through the speakers. Meditation music with binaural beats Shiro said when Keith commented on the music. Keith made the mental note to keep that in mind.

Shiro delivered him safely and before Keith got off the car he wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper. He told Keith that if he needed help, or had any questions, to feel free to call or text.

Keith awkwardly accepted it and gave his thanks, while reminding himself to save it on his contacts later.

Shiro had then smiled and threw him a, "Have a good night Keith. Nice to _officially_ meet you."

"Have a good night Shiro … nice … to officially meet you too." Keith had responded.

Then Shiro drove off. Keith stood there and watched as the black Jeep exited the complex and drove down the street. Keith went up the stairs as soon as the car was out of sight.

Finally at the apartment Keith could already feel the embrace of his bed. While he toed off his shoes Keith noted that the place was empty; Pidge left him a note on the fridge saying that they went out for food and that they would bring him some. For it, Keith sent a silent thanks to the universe then made a beeline to his room.

Shoes and sketchbook were tossed to their respective spots of the room; the jacket was hung on the desk chair and gloves were taken off and thrown on the desk. The silence crept on Keith after he flopped belly first on his bed and he laid there. That foreboding feeling from before, the one he told Sam about was reminding Keith of its presence; it came with cautionary warnings and telltale goosebumps on Keith's skin.

Keith had enough already to think about. Hence why he didn't heed the sign that was most likely caused by paranoia. That made him decide to drink his pills once he ate. For the moment he wanted to rest, let his thoughts calm down so that he could pick which ones he would share when the others arrived. He was sure they would ask about his experience with Shiro. Especially Lance as the fanboy that he was.

Certain details Keith will omit. Like the drawing for example. Keith would have to be careful that they didn't see it. Because if Lance or Pidge ever saw it, Keith was certain he would _never_ hear the end of it.

* * *

 **A/n:** Phew, at long last I have updated! I gotta say that I honestly didn't plan on this chapter being so long (by my standards) but I actually enjoyed myself writing it. I've been looking forward to posting this one, but I've been trying to be more patient when posting. I want to deliver as much as a refined chapter as I can, so updates may take a little longer than before. In any case I apologize for typos or any mistakes, and feel free to let me know so that I can correct them.

Anyways, as always I hope that you all enjoyed it and please leave me your thoughts!

As per usual, a huge thanks and shout out to thequalityrunaway for being my lovely beta reader/editor. She always has my back on all my stories and can't be grateful enough.

Hope you all are having a wonderful day/night and see ya all in the next one! Peace~~


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